


it's what you make

by Lise



Series: Remember This Cold [66]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Dark, Dark Steve Rogers, Depression, Established Relationship, Fantastic Racism, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Loki, Hurt Steve, M/M, Mental Health Issues, New Year's Fluff, New Years, Nightmares, Not Really Character Death, One Shot Collection, Sexual Content, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:30:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 40
Words: 43,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3438788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lise/pseuds/Lise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of various ficlets in the Remember This Cold universe. Notes and summaries in individual chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the lakes are boiling

**Author's Note:**

> The original notes for this chapter as it was posted on tumblr were "so I was talking with zaataronpita about Steve/Loki and about Loki’s borderline obsessive terror that he is going to ~ruin~ Steve and make him into some kind of twisted thing without a moral compass (i.e. Loki) and her question was “what would that even look like?” and then I said I’d write it  
> and then I wrote it and it was uncomfortable and disturbing and I’m not sure how to feel about the fact that it happened but it did happen, and maybe other people are interested! so" and that's basically all there is to say about it, still. Except maybe that I'm still sorry. A little.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someday Loki is going to ruin Steve. It's simply inevitable.

“Please,” the man said, voice distorted by his broken face, blood, spit, and tears mingled on his face. “Just don’t kill Pepper.”

“I already have,” Loki said, without feeling, and snapped Stark’s neck.

He let the body, bloody and beaten, drop to the floor, his eyes straying momentarily to the corpse of his once-hawkling slumped against the wall, body still smoking. The man with his green beast were gone, banished to an outer dimension, and he’d ripped out the spider’s heart with his own hand. Which left…

He heard a footstep behind him and whirled around, at the ready, but he relaxed a moment later. “Success?”

“Yes,” he said, almost curtly. “It’s done. Thor is dead.”

Loki closed the distance between them and reached out, wiped a smear of blood off of his cheek, sending a brief pulse of magic through his body to ensure that he wasn’t wounded.  He felt him shudder, and then he grabbed Loki and pulled him in, kissed him almost savagely, teeth worrying at his lower lip. Loki bent into it with a sharp gasp, body curving to press them together. He slid his hands up into blood-soaked blond hair and dug his nails into his scalp.

When they broke apart, there was a faint ache in Loki’s loins, and he let his eyes rake over the man in front of him. Steve Rogers, formerly known as Captain America. No one would call him that now.

Loki still whispered it to him when they fucked, and laughed. Steve smiled, sometimes, but rarely, and his eyes remained hard. He was loyal, absolutely loyal, but the softness in him…Loki had purged that from him long ago. Shown him that all his optimistic foolishness would never come to anything, that humanity yearned for a strong hand, that he – that  _they_ – were best to provide it.

Difficult work, but  _oh,_ worth it, for this splendid creature he owned now. Loyal. Ruthless. And absolutely sure of himself.

“It’s not over,” Steve said. “What’s left of SHIELD will keep fighting back, and that’s only on this continent. Then there are the other superheroes – you might be able to get some allies from the mutants, but…”

“The rest can be dealt with,” Loki said, with certainty. Steve shook his head.

“Don’t get overconfident.”

“Why should I not? I have  _Captain America_ at my side,” Loki said, with a wicked grin. Steve’s expression twitched with impatience, and Loki reached out to take his hand, raised it to his lips and licked a trace of blood from his knuckles, watching the way his eyes heated. “You defeated the mighty Thor.”

“With help.”

Loki smirked. “So modest.”

“No,” Steve said bluntly, “just honest.”

Loki lapped another drop of blood off Steve’s hand, wondering if it was Thor’s or his. “Still that, after everything?” he said archly, and Steve’s mouth flickered faintly, but not his eyes.

“We should keep moving if you want to maintain an advantage,” he said, and Loki raised his eyebrows.

“Surely there’s time for a celebratory moment,” he murmured, moving one hand down to slide his fingers delicately over Steve’s thigh, ghosting over his groin. Steve went rigid for a moment, and then lunged, pulling them together with his teeth in Loki’s neck, and Loki writhed against him, arms going around his neck to pull him down to the floor, bodies grinding together on a sticky mat of blood as Steve held his wrists down with one hand and pulled out his cock with the other, his eyes never changing-

Loki woke up like a bucket of cold water had been thrown in his face, sitting bolt upright and gasping. He glanced to his left and Steve was there, lying peacefully asleep still, and suddenly Loki couldn’t be in the same bed with him.

He surged up, almost flinging himself out of the bed and out, down the hall and into the bathroom, where he braced his hands on the counter and bent over the sink, breathing hard and his stomach churning. Arousal was a distinct weight in his stomach, and that made his guts knot more.

The image flashed into his mind of those cold, hard eyes, and his gorge rose.  _That’s what you’re going to do to him,_ something whispered at the back of his mind.  _All you can do is ruin, all you can-_

All that shining golden righteous beauty turned to ash and dust and  _like you, break him and mold him into your image, is that what you want-_

“No,” he said aloud. “ _No._ ”

He heard a shuffling footstep and wheeled, for a moment half expecting – but Steve was standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes, eyebrows furrowed with worry. “Everything okay?” he asked, voice rough with sleep, and Loki wanted to shove him away, stop this now, before it could get worse. Before he made Steve into the monster he was not and soaked his hands in innocent blood.

“Fine,” he pushed out, though his voice sounded tight. Steve took a step forward.

“—are you sure?”

He thought of Steve spattered with blood, rutting on the floor amongst the corpses of his dead friends,  _I have_ Captain America  _at my side._

Loki’s stomach roiled and he just made it in time to vomit thin bile into the toilet instead of on the floor. He retched uselessly, and a moment later Steve’s hand fell on his back, rubbing soothingly up and down, and Loki hated himself, wanted to cut himself to pieces and leave nothing, what was the point, he didn’t  _want_ that-

(Do you?)

“What’s the matter?” Steve asked, quietly, so  _concerned,_ so  _good_ and he didn’t deserve that, would never deserve it, ought to ensure that Steve knew that and knew  _exactly_ the evil he’d taken into his heart, and could not. Could not quite make himself let go.

Loki spat and closed his eyes. “Nothing,” he said, after a moment, his voice hoarse. “Just a bad dream.”

_That’s all._


	2. turning, turning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Loki celebrate a New Year together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was unforgivably sappy when I posted it on January 1st, 2014 and it is still unforgivably sappy now, over a year later. But fuck that, it's still cute. Every so often these two deserve a little cute. (Before I ruin their lives again, ahahahaha.)

It took weeks of wrangling and arranging and phone calls and arguments, but Steve was stubborn. On New Year’s Eve he trooped up to the eleventh floor and knocked, a bottle of champagne under his arm and feeling obscurely nervous. 

It took a moment, but the door opened and Loki’s expression was one of faint surprise. “I wasn’t expecting you,” he said, slightly too mild, which Steve knew translated to  _I didn’t think you would want to spend tonight with me._

He summoned a smile. “Well, here I am.” It was - he’d spent some time going back and forth, trying to figure out what was fair to his teammates and friends (family) and what was fair to Loki, but it just… “And I have a surprise.” 

Loki’s expression flickered between curious and wary. “A surprise?” Steve nodded. “Of what sort?” 

Steve felt his smile broaden. “Come with me and find out.” 

Loki looked slightly uncertain, but after a moment he smiled a fraction. “Out of my cage? Why, Captain. Is that permitted?” 

"I arranged it," Steve said, and the look Loki gave him was startled, pleased. Steve pretended not to notice, knowing if he made something of it Loki would only withdraw. He still did that. Steve hoped that eventually he wouldn’t. 

"Where are we going?" Loki asked, as they moved down the hallway. Steve reached for his hand and caught Loki’s fingers in his, giving them a little squeeze. 

"If I told you," Steve said, "it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?" 

* * *

"You rented a rooftop," Loki said, his eyebrows creeping up his forehead. Steve felt his face heat. 

"Well - I didn’t. Not - technically. I mean, SHIELD did most of the paperwork so no one would bother us-" he caught a flicker on Loki’s face, and rushed on, "but I thought you might…well, I don’t know. Like to have a good view of the fireworks. Even if you can’t really see the stars in the city, the fireworks are pretty incredible." He swallowed nervously. "Well?"

Loki made a small sound, a breathless kind of laugh. “You  _rented_ a  _rooftop,_ " he said again. "What… _Steve._ Such extravagance, on my account?” 

Steve hunched his shoulders and mumbled something about expensive restaurants and senatorial letters, and Loki did laugh, then; swooped over to Steve and kissed him. The air was too cold to be comfortable, but Steve felt warm all through his body as Loki drew back and he could see the sweet, genuine smile that was still rare, though so much less now than it had been. 

To think back…

"I brought champagne, too," he said. "I know neither of us can…but it’s festive, still, and we can pop the bottle at midnight. I figured it’d be…I don’t know if you’ve done a Midgardian New Year before."

Loki’s mouth tipped up at one corner. “I have not,” he said, and Steve felt a little thrill. Loki leaned the slight distance down to kiss the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Come. Where is the best place to sit to watch these fireworks?” 

They sat near the edge of the building. Steve had brought a blanket which they ended up wrapping around their shoulders, huddling together against the cold though neither of them were really shivering. Steve could see the flashing lights of the celebrations in Times Square. Even now, after a few years back, everything still seemed so bright. 

"I was thinking," Steve said, after a few moments of peaceful quiet. "About…where we were a year ago." Loki’s head canted, just slightly, and Steve went on. "And where we are now."

Loki shifted. Steve could feel him tensing and tightened his arm around Loki’s waist like he could keep him relaxed that way. “And?” Loki said, too mildly. 

Steve took a deep breath. “And I’m glad,” he said. “I’m glad I was in the tower that day when you first turned up, and that you trusted me enough to come back when you were in trouble again. I’m glad that you - were curious about me, or whatever it was that made you talk to me, at first.”  _I’m glad that you decided your pride wasn’t worth your life._

Loki was so very, very quiet, and Steve felt a quiver of fear, that he’d said too much, gone too far. Then Loki shifted, very slightly, and leaned into him. “As am I,” he said, almost too softly to hear. “That you are…everything you are.”

Steve smiled at his knees and reached for Loki’s hand again. “And what about next year?” he asked, quietly. “People make resolutions on New Year’s, sometimes. What would you…?”

Something flickered across Loki’s face, dimming his eyes, slightly, and he glanced away. “I try not to think too far ahead,” he said, a little too light to be real. “Who knows what may happen in a year?” 

"And if we’re here again?" Steve asked. "This time next year, what would you think of that?" 

Loki hesitated, a moment, and then glanced aside. “I would…be glad of that.”

Steve’s head snapped around as a great cheer rose up, and Loki almost leapt to his feet, tense in a moment. “It’s midnight,” Steve said, starting to grin. “Wait for it-“

The fireworks started to go off, bursting in great flashes of light, pops and bangs and explosions of colored sparks. Loki’s eyes went wide and his mouth opened a fraction. He leaned forward, apparently without thinking, and Steve looked at his face illuminated in the fireworks, bright with surprised pleasure, and hoped he could sketch that expression later. 

"It’s - incredible," Loki said, sounding genuinely impressed. "How do they - without benefit of magic! I -  _ahhh,_ " he let out a soft sigh at a particular magnificent spray of light that made Steve’s skin tingle. He picked up the champagne and nudged Loki’s shoulder. 

"Want a glass?" he asked, unable to keep himself from smiling. Loki nodded, distractedly, and Steve popped the champagne open and poured out too, holding one out. Loki accepted it but just held it loosely in his fingers, eyes fixed on the sky. 

Steve watched with him. He noticed more than a few going off from the top of the Tower, competing with the main display. He wondered if Tony was allowed to do that, and decided that it was Tony. 

The display lasted for maybe twenty minutes, and then started to die down. Loki let out a long, satisfied sigh and sank back against Steve’s arm, lifting the champagne to his mouth. He took a long sip and then turned and kissed Steve. He felt a slight fizz on his lips.

"Next year," Loki said, "I resolve to do better, Steve Rogers. To be better. Perhaps next year I may even be the man you think I am." There was something strange in his voice, and Steve set his champagne down to take Loki’s face between his hands. 

"You already are," Steve said, firmly. "I hope that next year you learn to see it." 

Loki drew back from him, suddenly, and then raised a hand and whispered a few words. Green light curled in his palm and then shot skyward, and Steve looked up just in time to see it burst, magnificently. A thousand tiny points of light forming a star for a split second before they scattered like small birds.  

"Happy New Year, Steve," Loki said. The words sounded awkward in his mouth, but true, and he leaned back into Steve’s chest.

"Happy New Year, Loki."


	3. Sometimes I wish for falling, wish for the release

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during "only when you hit the ground." Loki would like to believe that Doom is lying, but he's always been better at doubt than conviction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt from [portraitoftheoddity](http://portraitoftheoddity.tumblr.com) \- or basically just her talking about Loki believing Steve was dead, and I decided to write a short fic of it. Also because there's never enough gratuitous torture of Loki both physically and emotionally in my life. There just isn't. 
> 
> Warnings for descriptions of torture, vivisection, and non-real character death.

Loki opened his eyes slowly, feeling groggy and muddled. He fought through it, alarmed even before he registered his position, flat on his back, the coolness of metal on his skin. He remembered a blur of a fight, the lights in his room going out and the conversation he’d been having with Stark’s AI suddenly severed. He remembered flinging blades, heard one hit the wall and one meeting metal. He remembered lashing out with raw power, hearing the windows burst in a shower of glass just before electricity flooded his nerves and overloaded his brain.

He jerked, trying to sit up, and just managed to bite off a scream as pain stabbed through his hands and shot up his arms, his eyes slamming shut. For a moment he lost his breath again, though Loki quickly schooled himself to calmness, mind racing.

“You ought to have known that you could not escape me forever.”   
  
A sick fear curled in Loki’s gut, suffusing cold through his body. He knew that metallic voice. Remembered evenings spent sipping wine and talking amiably of matters of sorcery or politics and all the while his ally’s hungry eyes, searching him like they could dissect Loki where he sat. He remembered the surprise when he’d found his words slurring, when the wine glass had dropped from nerveless fingers and he’d recognized his magic struggling to burn unfamiliar poison from his blood. As he’d sat there, blinking helplessly and fighting for air, Loki remembered looking up at Doom as he said, “did you think you could betray me and I would not know?”

“Yes?” Loki had forced out, through numb lips, and Doom had struck him across the face hard enough to split skin.

But he’d gotten away. He’d  _gotten away_  and run to Captain America and…

Loki forced his eyes open against the glare of lights blazing down. “Actually,” he said, “it seemed to be working rather well.”

Doom’s face behind the metal mask was unreadable, but his eyes were cold. He did not look particularly angry. “Your use of the past tense is appropriate,” he intoned. “There is no shield protecting you now.”

Loki felt himself tense. That must be coincidence. He did not think – he had been careful, or tried to be, through everything Doom had done attempting to unlock his secrets, never to mention the Captain. Not to so much as  _breathe_ Steve’s name. If Doom knew now…Loki kept his breath from quickening. His hands throbbed and Loki flexed his fingers, wondering if he could tear them free of whatever Doom thought would hold him down. He felt a needle slip into his arm and resisted the urge to snarl at the invasion, the  _violation._

“Oh, dear,” he said, making his voice a drawl. “I suppose I shall merely have to escape your grubby clutches on my own. Again.” He tried, tentatively, for his magic, but the toxin Doom had used to suppress it before seemed more effective now.

“I’m afraid you won’t have anywhere to go,” Doom said, voice calm and implacable, and his fingers ran down Loki’s sternum in a way that made him shiver and press back as though he could escape that touch. “I destroyed the Avengers not six hours ago. They defied me, and I dislike defiance. I severed Captain America’s head from his shoulders personally with his own shield.”

Loki’s heart froze in his chest. His mind flashed him the picture of Steve’s eyes, frozen and glazed, mouth open in a last expression of horror, and he had to fight down the urge to vomit. He jerked against his bonds, ignoring the pain that burned from his palms up through his forearms, snarling. “You lie,” he almost spat. “You lie! I would have heard-”

“Interesting,” Doom said, nearly toneless. “I had wondered, but I assumed that you were above sullying yourself with such a base creature.” Loki’s lips peeled back from his teeth. “Were you lovers, or did you merely wish to be?”

The muscles in Loki’s arms strained and his chest heaved. JARVIS would have said, he told himself. (Unless it had happened too fast.) He would  _know._ (Don’t be a fool.)  _He cannot cannot cannot be dead, he_ cannot,  _Steve never should have let you leave should have – Thor,_ he thought, and it was a burst of hope. “My brother,” he said, “You cannot  _truly_ expect me to believe that you are capable of murdering  _him_ when I tricked you so easily-”

This time, the touch on his sternum was the delicate brush of a scalpel, and then the thin red line as Doom sliced into skin and Loki shuddered, unable to control the reaction. “I tricked him,” Doom said, casually. “I learned from the best, after all. And now I will have the rest of your secrets, from your unwilling bones if need be.”

Loki snarled the most vicious curse he could think of, one that promised a long and vividly painful death. Nothing happened. His mind was spinning.  _Doom is lying to you. Steve is fine, he is fighting somewhere else and soon – maybe he is already back at the tower and seeing the wreckage, trying to understand what happened._ Steve was safe. He  _had_ to be.

_(I severed Captain America’s head from his shoulders personally…)_

Doom paused, lifting the scalpel. “We can no longer be allies. But if you simply tell me what I need to know…your death need not be so terrible.”

Loki flung another curse at him. He would not believe it.

(And if it is true?)

The world, Loki thought, was just unfair enough to murder Steve Rogers and leave him alive. It might be just cruel enough to do that to him. If Steve was gone – and Thor as well – what was left? He was so tired, sometimes, of going on.

But to give Doom what he wanted? To give in to  _Doom,_ and his hubris and his greedy eyes and his eager knives?

No. Never.

The knife cut into him. Loki spewed curse after curse from his lips. “The Captain died like any man,” Doom said coldly. “Voiding his bowels at the last. He left a filthy, stinking corpse, and I left him for the scavengers.”

Loki gritted his teeth together and refused to scream.  _It’s not true,_ he told himself, over and over.  _It’s not true, it’s not true._

* * *

Steve’s face waited for him in the dark, eyes sockets empty where they’d been plucked clean by crows. (Or maybe ravens.) “Why didn’t you save me,” he asked. “Loki, why couldn’t you help me?”

 _It’s not real,_ he told himself, as Doom tried to find his magic with scalpel and syringe, but it didn’t feel like comfort. “He’ll come for me,” he said deliriously, mouth full of blood, but his heart whispered  _no, he won’t. And even in death you’ll never see him again._

Loki could feel himself sinking.  _If you close your eyes now,_ he thought, his whole body screaming in agony but that was nothing to heart.  _If you close your eyes now you might never open them again._

“Come with me,” said the Steve in his fever dreams, soft and gentle. “Leave all of this behind. It can be over.”

“You were always a man I could follow,” Loki said blurrily. His breath gurgled in the back of his throat. “I loved you.”

But he held on. By fingernails and teeth, as Doom carved him open again and again, as his doubts grew and hopes withered. Loki held on.

He’d never known how to die.

When he dreamed Steve holding his face, though, hands burning like firebrands, whispering _you’re safe, everything’s going to be fine,_ Loki thought he might finally have learned.


	4. quieting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has a nightmare. Of course, things are never that simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt which asked for Steve calming Loki after he reverts to his Jotun form.

Steve woke up in the middle of the night to the quiet, muffled sounds of Loki having a nightmare. 

It wasn’t unusual, far from it, but it still made something deep in Steve’s chest ache. Loki twitched violently and curled into himself, his breathing quickening, and Steve pushed down his response and reached out to give Loki’s shoulder a gentle shake. 

The moment his hand made contact Loki went rigid and  _screamed,_ and Steve’s palm suddenly seared with pain. He yanked back reflexively with a startled yell, and Loki jerked into wakefulness. 

"Steve-? What…" 

Steve cradled his hand to his chest, taking deep breaths. His palm  _burned._ "It’s fine," he said, quickly. "It’s fine, you were just…having a nightmare." 

Loki took a shuddering breath. “You screamed,” he said, “I heard you…” and then he trailed off. Steve heard his breathing pick up again.

"I’m going to turn on the light," he said, after a moment’s silence. His palm was throbbing and he needed to get a look at it, see how bad it was. "I think maybe I…"

"I hurt you." Loki’s voice was flat, and it wasn’t a question. Steve tensed. 

"I’m going to turn on the light," he said again, and reached over, blindly, and flicked the switch. Loki wasn’t looking at him, his skin deep blue, and Steve could see his shoulders trembling. He checked his palm and recognized frostbite, though it didn’t look too severe. He hesitated. "Loki," he said, slowly, carefully, and Loki stood in a flash and whirled around, his eyes wild. 

"I  _hurt_ you,” Loki said, his voice rising. “Don’t deny it-“

"It wasn’t on purpose," Steve said, slowly. 

Loki laughed, shrill and high and strange in his voice, slightly altered with his form. “But that’s all this body can do, isn’t it? All  _I_ can do, break and destroy and  _ruin-_ ”

His hand was starting to ache, but that was feeling, and Steve figured that was a good sign. It had only been a moment, after all. “Slow down,” Steve said. “You were having a nightmare, I moved too fast.”

"Don’t try to put this on yourself!" Loki said, and his breathing was almost hyperventilation quick, strange red eyes frantic, fearful. "This is  _me,_ this is what I am, I should have known-“

"Should have known what?" Steve heard his voice rise slightly, and made himself keep his tone calm as he shifted over to the edge of the bed. "I don’t think - it hasn’t hurt me before, touching you like this, it’s probably just a defensive…"

"So this  _monstrosity_ could kill you before I was aware of it, is that what you’re saying?” Loki said, and Steve closed his eyes tightly and opened them again, started to reach out. 

"That’s not-"

"Don’t touch me!" Steve fell still. Loki’s breathing sounded loud and labored, and he could hear little hitches like he was holding back something. "I should tear this filthy skin from my body, leave it in shreds-"

"Loki!" Steve said, feeling a spike of almost terror, and worry, and without thinking he moved and wrapped his unhurt hand around one of Loki’s wrists. Loki tried to jerk back, too late, and Steve tightened his grip. "Don’t say that. Don’t  _ever…_ ”

Loki’s eyes were wide and he tried to tug free, but a moment later his expression twisted, too deliberately, into rage. “Don’t be a fool,” he hissed, something like a snarl in his voice. “I have never asked you to play the martyr, I do not want your sanctimonious-“

"You’re not going to chase me away," Steve said. Loki’s eyes snapped to him, and Steve met that red stare as calmly as he could with the worry that hummed through him. "I mean it. So don’t try." 

Loki’s expression spasmed. “I hurt you.” 

"On accident," Steve said, quiet but firm. "Because I startled you."

"That doesn’t matter."

"It does to me." Steve took a deep breath and pulled himself up straight. "If you’re really upset about it…you can heal it, can’t you?" 

"Yes," Loki said, after a momentary pause. "I suppose I…" His shoulders twitched, but when Steve offered his hand, he took it, and the pain ebbed away quickly with the tingle of his magic. 

Steve drew back his hand only to pull Loki into a kiss. Loki’s body was rigid against his, still too tense, and Steve let his fingers trace over the ridges on his back. 

"You aren’t just…pain and destruction," Steve said, quietly. "Not in general, and not like this. I know that. You’re not hurting me right now." 

"I will," Loki said, his voice strangely rough-edged. "I always-"

"No," Steve interrupted. "You won’t."


	5. happy birthday to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve attempts to introduce Loki to Midgardian birthday rituals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A birthday present for [catsbythegreat](http://catsbythegreat.tumblr.com) from...a very long while ago, that I am just getting around to posting here, so sue me. Set sometime before "reflected in someone like me" and take this as proof that I _can_ write fluffy things, really, I can.

“When’s your birthday?” Steve had asked, once, without really thinking about it. Loki had given him an odd look, and he’d added, belatedly, “do you…do birthdays on Asgard?" 

"At times,” Loki said. Steve waited for more, but it was not forthcoming. 

“When is yours?" 

Loki gave him another odd look. "It would hardly align with the Midgardian calendar. But I would guess - perhaps midwinter.” His expression shuttered, suddenly. “Or maybe that is just when they decided it was.”

Steve hurried the conversation quickly away from that subject, but he kept it tucked away in the back of his head. Midwinter. Ultimately, he’d settled on the solstice. He figured it was as good a day as any and maybe there was a certain pagan relish to it too.

It wasn’t until he was setting the little presents he’d bought in a bag, along with the nice chocolate cake he’d bought from a bakery a few blocks away, that Steve realized he had no idea what birthdays meant to Loki. Steve never knew how to feel about his own, after all. And on Asgard…maybe things were different. He didn’t know how they celebrated.

Steve frowned down at his offerings, feeling unaccountably frustrated with himself. He should have asked Thor. He’d been so caught up in being excited about getting to do this for Loki, but he hadn’t even asked if Loki  _wanted_ it. 

Steve pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. He’d told Loki he was coming. He’d said there was a surprise. Maybe he could just pretend it was for something else. 

_Don’t be a coward,_ he thought harshly, and gathered up the bag, taking the stairs instead of the elevator to give himself some time to think. It would be fine, he told himself, though his stomach was churning with nerves by the third flight. If Loki didn’t like it, if he was upset for some reason…that was fine. 

It was just that everything was still so  _delicate_ and  _fragile_ and Steve was just afraid that if he did one thing wrong Loki would just run all over again. They still weren’t where they had been, before…everything with Doom, and a part of Steve -  _wanted_ them to get there again.

Steve paused at Loki’s door and took a deep breath. He raised his hand and knocked, heart thudding what seemed like must be audibly against his ribs. 

Loki opened the door a moment later, looking a little rumpled. He was wearing a deep green robe, sashed loosely around his waist, and Steve felt his eyes wander toward his almost uncovered shoulder before he pulled his gaze away. “Erm - happy birthday,” he said, suddenly feeling powerfully awkward. Loki’s eyebrows rose. 

“Pardon?" 

"It’s…” Steve wished Loki would pull his robe closed, just a little. “It’s midwinter. You said…” Loki just looked at him, and Steve made himself straighten up. “On Earth people celebrate their birthdays. With their friends, or…other people. They eat cake and sometimes get plresents from people and I just figured…” He trailed off. Loki’s eyebrows pulled together, giving Steve an intent look, then glancing to the bag in one hand. Steve lifted it. “I brought a cake, and a few things. I figured…you were probably bored.” And lonely, but Steve knew better than to say that. “So I thought…”

“Only children celebrate their namedays,” Loki said, voice a little strange. Steve swallowed.  _Was he insulted? Did he think Steve thought he was childish, or-_

“If you’d rather not,” Steve started to say, almost stumbling over the words, but Loki interrupted again. 

“You said you brought cake. What kind?” Loki sounded genuinely curious, and his expression had gone back to something…thoughtful. 

“Chocolate,” Steve said, honestly. “I didn’t make it, but the bakery I went to - their pastries are always really good, so I figured…”

Loki stepped back from the door. “Come in, Captain,” he said abruptly. “If you meant to bribe me into conversation, you chose the right means." 

Steve choked on that a little. "I’m not trying to-”

“Be calm,” Loki said, sounding almost like he wanted to laugh. “Show me this cake. And tell me about your Midgardian birthday rituals.” His eyes lingered on the bag. “And if you mentioned gifts…”

“I did,” Steve said, his shoulders starting to ease down. Loki’s mouth curled up, at least at one corner. 

“Are you certain you aren’t trying to bribe me?” he murmured, and Steve felt his face heat up inexplicably. Loki’s smile broadened and if Steve suspected it was at his expense, he nonetheless held onto the feeling that somehow he’d done something right.


	6. scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> L.A.D.: Life After Doom. Loki spends his first day on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after both "only when you hit the ground" and "when I'm falling I'm at peace" in the timeline - this one written for a prompt from [wbss21](http://wbss21.tumblr.com), who has consistently left delightful reviews on things.

_I’ll be back soon,_ Steve had promised, and Loki had given him a thin smile that he knew did not mask the sick fear underneath. 

I shall be here, he said, and Steve had kissed his mouth and then his forehead. Loki had avoided his eyes, not wanting to see the pity he was afraid would be there. Or the sadness. 

It was barely a week since he’d been able to get back on his feet, and staying upright too long still left him dizzy. His chest twinged frequently and his magic was still erratic, alternating between seething almost out of his control and inert and unresponsive. He did not let anyone, even Steve, know how afraid he was that it would never return to normal, that Doom had broken something in him. 

It was the first time Loki had been left alone, neither Steve nor Thor - nor even Banner - able to stay behind. All hands needed, and when Steve had hesitated Loki had flicked his fingers and told him to go.  _I no longer need a nursemaid._

Standing alone in his rooms, the quiet seeming to echo around him, Loki was more aware of his own weakness than ever, and his heart fluttered in his chest. 

_Doom is dead,_ he thought, savagely.  _Your other enemies are far away. Don’t be such a weakling._

He turned on some Liszt, and sat down on the couch, but then his eyes caught on the large windows and he got up and moved down the hallway, into the bedroom. He shut the door and drew the blinds, his chest feeling tight, little twinges of pain bursting with every breath. 

He knew they were largely psychological - the wounds were healed but for ugly scars that would fade more slowly. His eyes lingered on the covered window.  _  
_

Two nights ago he’d woken screaming from a dream of Doom looming over his bed and dropping Thor’s severed head on his chest. He  _knew_ Doom was dead and yet somewhere his mind was still convinced…

Loki thought he heard a noise out in the hall and was on his feet in an instant, ceasing to breathe. “Computer,” he said, after a few moments. 

“No sign of intruders. All is well.” The machine’s voice was soothing, like calming a fractious child. Loki gritted his teeth and sank back down.  _How long are you going to be like this? Jumping at nothings and anticipating an attack behind every movement in your peripheral vision?_

It was easier when he wasn’t alone. When he wasn’t trapped in the whirl of his thoughts screaming  _what if he doesn’t come back what if something goes wrong what if they come for you now-_

Loki started to pace, shoulders hunched. Listening to every sound. Waiting for the crash of breaking windows.

_You’re never going to be free of this fear, you know,_ whispered a voice at the back of his mind, and Loki dug his nails into his own wrist. Maybe not, but he wouldn’t let it rule him. Not yet. Not ever.


	7. on monstrosity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has something to tell Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place somewhere after Day 24 of “it spills from your skin”; when Steve first sees Loki’s Jotun form. Written for [underthebluerain](http://underthebluerain.tumblr.com) for a prompst of Steve/Loki, one confessing something to the other.

It was not a conversation Steve knew how to start. He had a feeling  _so, you’re not Aesir? What does that even mean?_ wouldn’t go very well, but he though leaving it up to Loki would leave it unsaid forever. Whatever it was, it clearly meant a lot to Loki, and Steve didn’t know how to have that conversation without it blowing up in his face. It was tempting to just let it go and let this be something they didn’t talk about, except that Steve knew it was still there, lurking under the surface.

Which was why it came as a surprise one day when sipping coffee over eggs on a clear winter morning, Loki looked up from his plate and said, “I killed my father, you know." 

Steve nearly choked on his toast. He did stare at Loki, for a moment trying to - Thor would have mentioned that, wouldn’t he? His stomach dropped, trying to figure out the best way to respond. ”…what do you mean?“ He asked, finally. 

Loki’s eyes drifted away from Steve. "I did not think I was unclear.”

“Are you talking about…Odin?" 

Loki huffed a breath. "He is not my father. My  _true_ father. The beast that sired me.” The hatred in that word -  _beast -_ made Steve feel vaguely nauseous. He tried to hold still, not to react, wondering if this was like - those other times, when Loki had tried to chase him away by horrifying him. Something felt different, though. Maybe it was the tone of Loki’s voice, too flat. 

“Your birth father,” Steve said, understanding. Thor had said  _adopted_ but he hadn’t really said from how far. Apparently it wasn’t just from some other family on Asgard. Loki nodded, a little jerk of his head. 

“Yes.”

Steve chewed on his lip, fumbling for the right response. “Do you…regret it?” He asked, finally. Loki’s lip curled in a way Steve didn’t much like. 

“No,” he said, savagely. “I do not. He was - a monster. And a fool.”

“When you say he was a monster,” Steve said carefully. “What do you mean?" 

"I mean-” Loki made a sharp gesture with one hand. “He was. Cruel and savage. Like - like the Chitauri.” Loki’s eyes moved back to Steve from where they’d been lingering on the window. “I almost believed by killing him that perhaps I could destroy that part of me. Foolish, no?" 

Steve’s chest ached, and he wasn’t sure what to say. It was - the idea of Loki murdering his birth father in cold blood made him feel sick, but there was something else going on here that he didn’t understand and wasn’t sure he wanted to. And at the same time -  _I could destroy that part of me._ Sometimes Steve wished he could see inside Loki’s head, figure out what he was thinking for real so he could fix all of the things that were mixed up and twisted around, make it  _better -_ and sometimes he thought if he did know it would just scare him too much. "Loki,” he said carefully, trying to be gentle. “I don’t think…I’ve told you before that I don’t believe in monsters.” _  
_

“So you think I was wrong to kill him,” Loki said, a challenge. Steve swallowed. 

“I almost always think murder is wrong,” Steve said carefully. “But I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me that I don’t understand.”

Loki’s mouth twisted up at one corner. “You are probably right. In the end…it didn’t change anything, after all.” He stood up, something jerky about his movements. “But I do not regret it. I cannot.”

“Maybe if you told me what happened,” Steve said. Something about the way Loki was acting scared him, but he couldn’t pin down why. 

“No,” Loki said. “No, I don’t think so. If you don’t mind, Captain, I think I should like to be alone." 

Steve stood, slowly. "All right,” he said, and walked over to Loki. He tried to give him a kiss, but at the last moment Loki turned his head so it just landed on his cheek. “I’ll talk to you soon?” Steve said, nervous and uncertain, wondering if he dared ask Thor.

Loki inclined his head slightly but said nothing, and Steve left, feeling his shoulders slump and wondering if they’d just taken a few steps back.


	8. that pet you just couldn't keep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things Loki still can't speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossposting from the blog. Tumblr user [thelightofthingshopedfor](http://thelightofthingshopedfor.tumblr.com) prompted “something about the stuff with thanos in rtc that loki still hasn’t told anyone about” so here is a messy fic about that. The note on Tumblr also included a reminder that I am a pile of Loki whump trash. It is still true, trust me.
> 
> Also, considering the volume of things I want to crosspost that I haven't, may start trying to do one of these a day until I clear out that backlog. Hm.
> 
> Warnings this chapter for torture.

Steve’s thumbs dug deep into the muscle of his shoulders, working the last few knots loose, straddling Loki’s waist. Loki pressed his face into the pillow underneath him and let out a low, satisfied hum, relaxing into the pressure of Steve’s hands.

He paused, suddenly, hands lifting for a moment before his fingers traced a line from Loki’s shoulder diagonally across his spine down almost to the small of his back. Loki let out a soft exhale, recognizing from the odd feeling what Steve was looking at.

“These scars,” Steve said. “I hadn’t thought about it. Are they…”

Loki turned his head to the side. “From the first time you helped me?” He remembered dragging himself through a portal to collapse on the hard floor, his back on fire and soaked with blood from the claws of one of the hunting beasts the Chitauri had used to track him. He remembered how it had felt when those claws had sunk deep into his flesh, how he had almost passed out from the pain alone. “Yes.”

Steve traced another of the faint scars. They would vanish fully soon, Loki thought, perhaps in another year. That the wounds had scarred at all said something of their severity. “You don’t have any others,” Steve said after a moment.

“I heal quickly and cleanly,” Loki said. “And when there are lingering marks, they tend to fade with time.”

“Will these?” Steve asked, his fingers lingering. He sounded worried.

“Yes,” Loki said. “In time.” He’d healed from much worse without a trace, after all.

Steve bent down and kissed his back – one of the scars. “Good,” he said simply, and returned to his massage. Loki let himself relax.

_If you do not like those, Captain,_ he thought, half closing his eyes,  _you are fortunate not to know the uglier marks that have faded from my skin._

But not from his memory. Not from his soul.

* * *

The pain the Chitauri gave him was a relief, at first, after the long dark nothing of the Void. The ability to feel  _anything,_ after so long of nothing, was almost a gift, regardless of what it was.

That passed quickly.

The Chitauri were not cruel, for the most part, at least not intentionally. They did not taunt or jeer. He was a specimen to be examined and they treated him as such, cutting him apart piece by piece to examine his component parts, more interested in his blood and bone and tissue than his words, answering none of his questions until they had carved deep enough into the core of him to be satisfied.

Thanos came, then, the Other gliding at his side. Loki was floating just beneath the surface of consciousness, breathing shallowly, when the Other burrowed into his thoughts and yanked him out of vague half-dreams of death.

He stared at Thanos’s face hovering above him without comprehension, numb and half lost, certain this was but another vision brought on by pain. “Greetings,” it said, and Loki blinked at hearing the tongue of Asgard spoken after so long lost in the chattering babble of the Chitauri. Loki blinked, unsure for a moment if he was truly being addressed. “Look at you. What a surprise this is.”

Loki licked his cracked lips and tasted blood. “Who are you,” he croaked, voice grinding over his parched throat.

“A friend.” Loki felt himself shudder, doubting that. Something felt very wrong but he did not know what. “I wish to help you.”

Loki heard himself wheeze a laugh. “Help me,” he said. “I am – I am beyond – any aid.” The strange, purple-blue face did not seem troubled by his response.

“Very well, then,” it said, and withdrew.

When the Chitauri came back, they no longer seemed to be seeking answers. They pulled him off their table and shoved him to his knees, two of them holding him there while a third brought a flexible tube whose function Loki didn’t understand until they clamped his nose shut.

He held his breath as long as he could, but eventually he had to open his mouth to gasp for air and then they pushed one end of the tube into his mouth and kept pushing as he choked and gagged and tried to pull away. They shoved it deep into his throat and then poured something in the other end, black and viscous liquid.

Loki felt it hit his gut like a rock. They pulled the tube out and released Loki to double over coughing, trying to retch. He only had a few seconds before whatever they’d poured into him started burning.

It was like having a fire lit in his entrails. Loki thrashed, clutching at his stomach, clawing at it, trying to vomit and failing. He writhed, head cracking against the ground, and when he did manage to retch all that came up was bright red blood that Loki stared at in horror.  _I am going to die like this,_ he thought distantly, the fire seeming to spread deeper into his insides.  _The fall did not kill me but they have decided to kill me now._

His mind went blank. But he didn’t die. He didn’t die when they flayed the skin from his back in a single piece, or when they severed the tendons in his wrists and watched them heal only to do it again. He didn’t die, and Thanos came again, though Loki still did not know his name.

“I can help you,” he offered again. “Free you.”

“What-” Loki licked his lips. “What do you want?”

“You came from Asgard?” Loki nodded jerkily. “Who rules there?”

Loki caught himself before he answered. It was the kind of question a spy might ask, and some part of him still – balked. “Who are you,” he asked instead. His throat felt raw. He thought he might have screamed, the last time, when they’d grabbed one end of a severed tendon and  _pulled._

“Does it matter? I want to help you, Loki. Who rules in Asgard?”

Surely it could not hurt to say. All the Realms knew Odin was the ruler of Asgard. _(But you are not in the Realms.)_ Loki hesitated, and then something odd caught his attention. He licked his lips again. “I have not told you my name,” he said.

A pause. “They return,” said the stranger. “I must go.”

“No,” Loki said, “wait,” but he was already gone.

This time the Chitauri injected him with a bright blue poison before releasing him. He tried to attack them but they only dissolved into mist and he could not keep his footing, dropping to his knees as pain crept in from the edges of his world and swallowed him and-

_he was kneeling in Jotunheim, deep in a snow drift. Loki looked down at his hands and they were blue, deep blue and ridged and he cried out in horror, reaching for his knife and hacking at them, the gashes he opened spilling purple blood that hissed and steamed as it fell on the snow._

_“No,” he said desperately, “no, no no no this isn’t me.” He heard a crunch of footsteps and looked up. Thor was standing there, staring down at him, stony faced._

_“Thor,” Loki said. “Please.”_

_“You should have died,” Thor said, his voice hard. “You should have died. When I threw you off the Bifrost, in Jotunheim, it wouldn’t matter. Now I have no choice.” He hefted Mjolnir. Loki shrank back, dropping the knife and holding up his mangled hands._

_“Thor, please,” Loki said._

_“The monster has to die,” Thor said, and Loki felt his skull shatter under the blow, felt his head crushed like a ripe melon and the snap of his own neck-_

Loki blinked and he was lying limply on his side, looking at his own pale arm, the ugly fingernail welts raised on the skin, his head ringing like a struck bell and tears drying on his cheeks.

He had barely managed to reorganize his jumbled thoughts when one of the Chitauri gave him another dose and he was lost again, brain spiraling away.

When Thanos came again he was hardly even certain he was real. “Odin,” he said, in case he was. “Odin All-Father rules Asgard. Please.” He did not even know what he was asking.

“Just a little bit longer,” the stranger assured him. “Just a little bit more. I promise.”

“You have to help me,” Loki gasped raggedly.

“ _Have_ to?” The stranger asked, and Loki’s breath caught. He was already retreating.

“No,” Loki said. “No, no, don’t leave me here-”

It was a long time before he came back.

They burned him. Sent bursts of electricity coursing through his body like Thor’s lightning until he spasmed and twitched even after it was gone, muscles outside of his own control. They shut him in a small box until Loki couldn’t suck in a single breath, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but scream and claw at the lid until his fingers tore. They sliced open his stomach and let him writhe as his own acid ate at his flesh.

He begged. He screamed. He howled for Thor until his throat bled.

_I remember being happy once,_ he thought deliriously at one point, watching his shattered fingers heal. The thought made him laugh.

When Thanos finally came back, Loki was barely clinging to sanity. Barely clinging to anything at all. He stared dully as Thanos crouched in front of him.

“What would you do if I told you that you could be free,” he said.

“Anything,” Loki said.

“Good,” Thanos said. “Now come.”

* * *

“You never talk about what happened,” Steve said, running his fingers through Loki’s hair where his head was resting on Steve’s lap, already half asleep. “I mean…between when you…fell, and when you got here.”

Loki did not let himself tense. “No,” he said. “I do not.”

Steve was quiet for a few moments. “If you ever wanted to,” he said, voice gentle, “I’d listen.”

Loki’s mouth felt a little dry. “What makes you think there is something to tell?”

“Loki,” Steve said, voice faintly reproachful. “You still have horrific nightmares more often than not. You very conspicuously  _don’t_ talk about what happened. You spent upwards of half a year running from the Chitauri. I’m not stupid. I haven’t asked because I figure you’ll say something when you’re ready, but…I thought maybe you might need a reminder.” Loki wanted to flinch. He started to pull away but Steve caught him and pulled him back down. “And I’m not going to think you’re weak,” he added. Loki closed his eyes.

“You sound very certain of that.”

“Because I am certain.” Steve’s fingers tugged very lightly at his hair. “Nothing anyone does to you makes you weak.”

Loki said nothing, staring blankly upwards. After a long moment, Steve sighed and his fingers resumed their motion. “It’s up to you,” he said quietly. “But if you ever change your mind…you know I’m here.”

Loki closed his eyes.


	9. bliss (the inverse remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gets kidnapped. That's not the upsetting part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on Tumblr (another one of those!) that got depressing on me. Funny how often that happens. Or, well, "funny." Um. 
> 
> Anyway. (There are longer, new projects in the works! They'll happen at some point! But, as you know if you've been following me, life is kind of kicking my ass. They'll happen when they happen - in the meantime, I'm sorry.)

When they found Loki, he was smiling. “Steeeeve,” he said, with obvious delight. “ _And_ Thor. Oh, good.” His grin was dazzling, and Steve was immediately alarmed, given that one of his limbs was strapped to a table and he was surrounded by several bodies. 

“Loki,” Steve said carefully, picking his way through them - but mostly he was _relieved,_ thinking about the last time Loki had vanished and how much better this was, all around. “Are you all right?” 

“I’m  _wonderful.”_ Loki cocked his head to the side, only to nearly overbalance and fall. “It feels so nice.”

“What did they do to him?” Thor rumbled, his voice dangerous. Loki’s smile dimmed and he looked faintly nervous. 

“Do to who?” He asked. 

“Can you look at me?” Steve asked. Loki obediently looked back at him, and Steve sucked in a breath. His pupils were huge and his eyes looked unfocused. He paused, and asked carefully, “what happened to them?” Gesturing at the bodies. 

“Oh,” Loki said, smile dimming a little further. “They were trying to hurt me. It was very upsetting. But I dealt with it.”

“Are they dead?” Steve asked Thor. Thor bent down to examine one of the bodies, and nodded. 

“Quite. It seems - this one, at least, had his neck broken.”

“I think we should go home,” Steve said, cautiously. Loki brightened again. 

“Oh, yes. That sounds like a splendid idea.” He reached out with his free hand and caught Steve’s arm. 

“Wait,” Steve started to say, but then he and Loki were standing in their living room. Loki swayed, almost falling, and Steve had to catch him before he dropped. 

“Where’s Thor?” Loki asked, frowning. 

“I think we left him back where you were,” Steve said carefully. “Loki…can you tell me what they gave you?” 

“Mmm. I thought for sure I had him.” Loki sighed, leaning into Steve. “I am not sure. It  _is_ very nice. I feel…light. Free. Nothing matters. It’s wonderful.” 

Steve took a slow, deep breath. “I’m…glad. But do you know what it  _was?”_

“No,” Loki said, sounding disappointed. “It was in a needle. Stabbed it into my neck, which was - rude. It hurt for a while, but that went away. It is hard to - hard to think, though. You smell nice. Like home.” Loki wrapped his arms tightly around Steve, nuzzling into his collarbone. 

“Loki,” Steve said, feeling a pang but trying to keep his focus while at the same time manuevering them over to a couch. “This…whatever they gave you, it could be dangerous. Could be hurting you.” 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Loki insisted. “It feels  _good._  Like flying. Or - sex. Hm. There’s an idea.” He grabbed Steve and somehow managed to pull him down into a wet, open-mouthed kiss. Steve put his hands on Loki’s shoulders and pushed him gently away.

“No, Loki,” Steve said, what he hoped was firmly. He eased Loki down on the couch, hoping Thor was on his way. If they needed to get Loki where someone could take a look at him…Thor would be the best way to get him there. “Not right now.”

“Spoilsport,” Loki mumbled, but he didn’t seem upset. “Mmm. Is this how other people feel all of the time?” 

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?” 

“Happy,” Loki said simply, giving Steve a blissful grin. Steve’s heart hurt. 

“Oh, Loki,” Steve said softly. Loki’s smile dimmed again and he struggled to sit up.

“Don’t fret,” he said. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine. I’m ju-ust fine. They can’t hurt - can’t hurt me.” He started to stand up, and Steve moved to push him back down, but somehow that ended up with Loki’s mouth on his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark and making satisfied little humming noises.

“Loki,” Steve said, a little strangled. 

“Hush,” Loki said, one hand moving up to clumsily pet Steve’s hair. “Juust. Just let me have this. Let me be happy. For a little while.”


	10. mending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows after "This Is My Kingdom Come" and somewhere in the middle of "The Long Way Home".

Steve let himself into Loki’s suite almost gingerly, not certain what he was expecting. Loki had nearly pushed him out of the room, insisting that he was  _fine, thank you, stop hovering, you will drive me mad_. Steve hadn’t been certain how much to believe it, but had decided it was probably best to give Loki the space at least for a bit. 

With the door open, however, music spilled out, surprisingly loud. It sounded vaguely familiar - classical, Steve thought, though he couldn’t have identified the composer, and there was something a little different about the instruments. Steve stepped in, closing the door, and blinked. 

The furniture had been rearranged, pushed back to the walls to clear a large space in Loki’s living room. Loki himself was standing, head cocked, though he turned almost as soon as Steve took a step.

“Loki,” Steve began uncertainly, as Loki swept over. 

“Come here,” he demanded, taking Steve’s arm and nearly pulling him over to the newly cleared floor. “Now, I’m not certain that I can quite…but I think at least I have the rhythm. Put your hands on my waist." 

Steve obeyed, slowly and awkwardly, feeling thoroughly thrown. Whatever he’d expected…mostly, he thought, he’d expected Loki to be unhappy, sullen. This determined mood…Steve was wary of it. "What are we doing?” He asked. 

“I heard that you danced while you were in Asgard,” Loki said, sounding almost distracted. “Apparently you embarrassed yourself, though Thor did not put it in so many words. I have been remiss.” Loki’s hands rested lightly on his shoulders. “Now, the count for this step is-”

“Wait,” Steve said, feeling himself flush. “I didn’t - I didn’t think I had…" Embarrassed himself?Steve didn’t think he’d done that badly. He pushed that away, realizing that  _that_ was where the music sounded familiar from. "Where did you get the music?” That was the wrong question to ask, too. 

Loki raised an eyebrow. “My memory,” he said, smiling a little, though to Steve’s eye it was crooked. “Now-”

“Loki,” Steve cut in, still scrambling a little. “What is this? Are you teaching me…how to dance?”

“How to dance Aesir court dances,” Loki said, with an air of correction. “As I said - I should have thought of it before. Undoubtedly you will be called upon to be ambassador for your people again, and I would not have you mocked. The steps for this dance are very simple, if you-”

“ _Loki,_ ” Steve said more firmly, planting his feet, “You’re…” he searched for the right words to not sound…bad. “You’re acting a little odd. It’s not your job to…I don’t know if I  _will_ go back to Asgard.”

“Nonsense,” Loki said dismissively. He looked tense, Steve noticed, strung like a wire. The music kept playing, though listening closely Steve thought a dissonant note had entered it. “You are the ideal representative for Midgard, and if your alliance with the Golden Realm is to remain strong then you must appear respectable to their standards, and that means knowing how to act.”

 _Screw their standards,_ Steve thought and wanted to say.  _They would’ve killed you. They almost did. They would’ve turned on Thor._ He hoped his thoughts stayed off his face. “You don’t need to…whatever it is you’re doing." 

"Whatever it is?” Loki sounded affronted. “I am simply attempting to teach you how to dance. You are making it needlessly complicated.” His hands dropped from Steve’s shoulders. “Of course if you do not wish to you might simply say so.”

Steve felt at sea, uncertain as he hadn’t in a while with Loki. He leaned back, not removing his hands but trying to read Loki’s face. It was…hard, because Loki wouldn’t look at him, but he thought his expression looked…lost, he realized. Uncertain. 

Steve remembered how he’d felt, thrown into a new world with nothing familiar to stand on. Not knowing where he fit or how to be when everything he’d ever identified himself by was gone. He bit his lip. 

“That’s not it,” Steve said quietly. “I’m just…" 

"Just what?” Loki’s voice wasn’t quite a snap. 

 _Worried about you._ Steve couldn’t say that, not when there was something so…brittle about Loki right now, like if pushed the wrong way he might shatter. He swallowed instead and leaned in to give Loki a light kiss, just a brush of his lips. 

“All right,” he said. “Teach me.”

Loki blinked, expression flickering between wariness and surprise. “–truly?" 

"Sure,” Steve said, summoning a smile. “Though I’m not much of a dancer, so don’t expect too much.”

“You have grace,” Loki said, his expression smoothing out and hands returning to Steve’s shoulders, though his touch seemed perhaps even lighter than before. “You will do fine.”

Steve watched Loki’s face as he began to explain, and if the brittleness didn’t go away it receded a little, as did the lost look. 

They’d find their way through this, a little at a time.


	11. stay alive (that would be enough)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not even a half a year after Steve comes back from the dead, Loki comes too close to losing him again. (Takes place post "Collapse the Light Into Earth.")

All Loki could think was  _it has not even been six months._

Not six months since he had clawed himself back from the spiral of despair that would have killed him, eventually. Since Steve had returned, battered and beaten but not broken and still  _alive._

And Steve was down in the middle of a fight against some band of idiots or another, down and not moving and Loki might not be able to breathe but he could teleport to the location handily offered by the news report he’d be watching. 

He landed perhaps one hundred yards from Steve, lying facedown in the rubble of a ruined building. Loki could not see blood. He  _could_ see Romanov running toward Steve. She was going to reach him first, but someone was aiming a weapon at her. Loki sent an illusion to appear right in front of him, followed by a bolt of magic that left a hole in his chest. 

Romanov dropped to her knees and Loki could see her checking Steve’s spine. He reached her a moment later. 

“Loki,” she said, voice terse. 

“I saw,” Loki said. His voice sounded hoarse and strange. “Let me.” He reached out and sent a wave of simple diagnostic magic through Steve’s body. There was a crack in his collarbone, a number of his ribs were broken, and his shoulder was dislocated, but more concerning was the blood pooling in his body and the damage to his head. Still, it was enough to roll him to his back. The helmet, cracked, fell away, leaving his hair sticking up in messy spikes. Loki’s heart felt like it would pound out of his body. 

“What’s the matter with him?” Romanoff asked sharply. Loki gave her the list in a voice that didn’t sound like his own. She swore. 

“Sam,” she said. “Steve needs med-evac. Loki’s here.” She turned her head and gave him an assessing look. “Can you get him to a hospital without being recognized?” 

“Yes,” Loki said. It would involve some manipulation of memories, but she had not asked about that, which he thought was intentional. 

“Then go,” Natasha said, and added, “did you catch that?”

Loki lifted Steve, but carefully, holding him close to his body. “Where is the nearest hospital,” he asked. 

“30th and Mississippi,” Natasha said. “About three miles west.  _Go.”_

Loki didn’t argue. He went.

* * *

They snatched Steve out of his arms and would not let him go back with them into surgery. Loki probably could have fought it, or could simply go back anyway, but he was not certain he could tolerate the sight of people cutting into Steve’s body. 

He paced instead, only half listening to the squawking report on the television about the fight. The Avengers would win; they always did. But Steve…Loki knew he ought to call James, but he did not think he could have that conversation. 

“Hey, buddy,” one of his fellow waiting room occupants said, and it took Loki a moment to realize that he was being addressed. “Want to sit down? You’re stressing _me_ out.”

It was all Loki could do not to snarl at him. Not to lash out. He swallowed down the anger (harder to swallow the fear), turned on his heel, and marched out. 

He went to the roof, where he could see the smoke. Smell it. Somewhere below him, mortal doctors were slicing into Steve’s body to try to mend what was broken. Loki’s heart was a bird in a cage, flapping its wings wildly. 

It could be hours, they’d told him.  _We’ll call you._

* * *

Steve lived. 

Loki’s lungs began to fill again. Wilson had called to tell him that they were just cleaning up, they’d be right there. He’d asked if there was any news and Loki had made himself say  _none_ and refused to let his voice crack. 

“Can I see him?” He asked the surgeon, using his will to urge the man not to ask why this stranger had been the one to bring Captain America in, why he should be allowed back. 

“Just for a few minutes,” he said. “He’s not awake yet.”

He led Loki back to a small room, and window that looked out on nothing more than city. Steve was lying there, bandaged and cleaned of dirt, the machine beside him blinking his breathing and heartbeat. Loki let out a shuddering breath and stepped to his side. The doctor left at a small urging. Shortly he would forget that he had let Loki come here at all. 

“You really must stop doing this to me,” Loki said, fingers finding Steve’s hand. “It is terribly impolite.” His voice shook, a very little.

He leaned forward and kissed Steve’s lips. They were chapped, but warm and soft. Living. This time.

 _Don’t leave me,_ he thought but did not say.  _Please, do not leave me._


	12. a little death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lingering fallout of Steve's "death" continues. (Or, there are a lot of things Loki didn't really want to talk about. Steve thinks they need to.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one hurt to write. Like, a lot. Which is probably unsurprising, given that the scene it is rehashing was one of the most painful bits of "Collapse" for me to write (thanks, anon who gave me the idea!) but still. Yay, things that are painful? I mean, that _is_ kind of my jam. 
> 
> Hope you guys aren't sick of me yet. :D

Loki still slept lightly, half expecting to wake and find that he was back in his hideaway, everything since Steve’s return nothing but a dream. It was Steve’s soft footsteps that woke him, however, and he relaxed, keeping his eyes mostly closed. 

“Loki?” There was something odd in Steve’s voice, something that made Loki’s skin prickle. “Are you awake?” 

“Perhaps,” Loki said after a moment’s pause. He heard Steve inhale slowly and let it out.

“I need to talk to you.”

Those words. Always, they made a chill run down his spine and his stomach clench, his mind lurching into gear,  _what did I do, what could have happened, to Thor, to James._ He opened his eyes, forcing himself not to react with outward panic. “Of?” 

Steve limped - he still limped, even with two more weeks of healing behind him - over to the couch. Loki folded up his legs so he could sit, but Steve pulled them up and sat down, dropping Loki’s legs back so they were draped over his lap. He looked tense and uncertain. The knot in Loki’s stomach grew. “Has something happened?” 

“No,” Steve said at once, eyes jerking quickly to Loki’s and then away. “No - sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think…everyone’s fine.” He ran his fingers through his hair, an absent and worried gesture. Loki sat up and reached out to replace his fingers with his own, some part of him rejoicing in being able to do so (as it did when Loki woke up with Steve beside him and pressed his face into his lover’s neck to feel his pulse beating  _alive, alive._ ).

“Yet you look troubled,” he said carefully.  _Did I…_ He wondered, suddenly, if perhaps Steve had learned something in his questioning of Rumlow’s death - but no, then there would be anger, not this…cautiousness. Like something was fragile, and Loki was not certain if it was supposed to be him or Steve. 

“I am,” Steve said, after a moment. He blew out a breath. “I haven’t wanted to…ask you much. About…about what happened, when you and Buck were…” He trailed off, mouth doing something odd. Loki felt something in him shift, shards of something barely mended grinding together.

“Why not?” He made himself ask. Steve gave him a look that said he thought it was obvious. 

“Loki,” he said, and then stopped. “The same reason I wouldn’t ask a POW about the torture he went through.”

“I was not hurt,” Loki said blandly. Steve gave him a stare that was so patently unimpressed Loki almost wanted to flush.

“Not physically, sure,” he said. “But-” And stopped. Shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I figured if you wanted to talk about it, you would. But Buck’s been…it seems like he wants to talk, so I’ve been listening.”

Loki felt himself tense further. What of what he’d done was Steve reacting to? Meddling in James’s mind? “And you want to ask something now,” He said carefully. Steve snuck a glance at him, his hand rubbing up and down Loki’s leg. Loki wasn’t sure if he was trying to soothe himself or Loki. 

“I…if that’s all right. Yes.” Loki jerked his head in a nod, but Steve did not look certain. “You can say no. I won’t be upset.” 

“Just ask me,” Loki said. “If you do not it will only fester in us both.”

“Bucky said…there was a base that seemed empty. That the two of you split up. And when he came back, he found you…” Steve trailed off, swallowed. Loki felt a wave of nausea and closed his eyes, breathing through his nose.

(Steve’s dead eyes staring at him. The feeling of his mind as it burnt out. His mouth filled with saliva and he swallowed it down.)

“Yes,” he said carefully, after a moment. “What James - what Barnes told you was accurate.” 

“I didn’t think it wasn’t,” Steve said slowly. Uncertain. Angry? Was he imagining it, his own body, dead at Loki’s hands. He tried not to pull away but felt himself curl inward. “I just…”

“I do not know if there are others,” Loki said, voice neutral. Reporting. “Other - clones. There may be. He - the others were all dead already, when we arrived. Failures, apparently. I do not - I do not know what that means.” His voice did not sound like his own. Steve’s hand, on his thigh, squeezed hard. 

“Loki,” he said, “I’m not asking for information.”

Loki felt himself rock slightly, forward and back, before he managed to still it. “I do not know what you are asking, then.” 

“I’m…” Steve inhaled again, let it out slowly. “Can you look at me?” Loki made himself turn his head, but he kept his gaze on Steve’s chest. He was afraid to meet his eyes and see superimposed upon them that dead gaze.  _He came to me. Not trusting, but so very obedient. And I killed him. Killed you._ “You’re not looking at me,” Steve said. His voice shook slightly.

Loki licked his lips and made himself raise his eyes. Steve - seemed very far away. Like Loki’s body. He felt - distant. Removed from himself. That was fine; it was safer here. “What do you want,” he heard himself ask. Steve’s expression twitched. 

“It’s not about what I want.”

“He wasn’t you,” Loki made himself say. “A - a copy. Your body but not your mind or soul.”

“You could tell that?” Steve sounded uncertain. Loki wanted to laugh.  _I wasn’t sure. Not at first. I wanted to believe - and I was scared after that I had been wrong._ He said nothing. The words did not seem to want to come. “Loki?” Steve’s fingertips brushed his face. They felt cold. 

Something in Loki shivered, threatening to crack. He closed his eyes but the only thing behind them was Steve’s dead gaze and the memory of his body, a hollow clay shell as Loki tried to force it to  _heal._  

“I’m right here,” Steve said. His voice trembled, from where it came very far away. “We don’t have to talk about this now. We can - Loki, it’s fine. Everything’s fine.” 

“I killed him,” Loki said. His voice sounded eerily serene. “Did James tell you that?” He heard Steve swallow, felt his fingers rest more solidly against Loki’s cheek. “When I understood…what they had done.  _Come here,_ I said.  _All will be well._ And then I killed him. Killed you.” 

“Not me,” Steve said. Loki heard his voice crack. “It wasn’t me, Loki.”

“I almost did not,” Loki said. “I considered…if it was the best I could have. Maybe it would be better. But I thought - you would not want, you would not want to be that.” A shudder ran through him. He could almost feel the cracks running through him. “I am sorry-”

“What are you apologizing for?” Steve’s voice sounded thick. “You don’t need to be sorry, Loki. Not for this.  _I’m_ sorry.”

Loki closed his stinging eyes and he felt Steve move, shifting so he could rest his forehead against Loki’s and cup his face in his hands. The bandage on his right wrist rubbed roughly against Loki’s neck. “Don’t apologize,” Loki said. “Please. Don’t apologize to me. I do not-”

“If you’re going to say you don’t deserve it I’m going to,” Steve started to say, but then tapered off. “Do something,” he ended lamely. “You’re right. It - wasn’t me. But if it had been…I wouldn’t have wanted that.”

Loki heard himself make a sound awfully like a whimper. His body was coming back and with it the sharp ache in his chest, like a spike lodged between his ribs. Steve kissed him, gently, and Loki could feel the tears on his face. 

“It’s all right,” he said, voice rough. “ _I’m_ all right.”

“I know what your eyes will look like when you die,” Loki blurted out, his voice fracturing. “I cannot - I cannot ever undo that.” ‘ _Come here. All will be well.’ Liar, you wretched liar._

He felt Steve shudder, heard him make a small noise. “I’m not dead,” he said. “I’m here.”

 _For now,_ an awful part of Loki could not help but think.  _For now._

Loki moved his hand to curl around Steve’s wrist. The one without a bandage, where his fingers could find the vein that moved with Steve’s heart, beating:  _alive, alive, alive._


	13. strangers to ourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki's "no talking about trauma" policy gets pushed, a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've talked a fair bit on my blog about my feelings about the Loki & Thanos situation, and now as of "(hang on) when the water is rising" I've actually described some of it. A while ago, an anon on Tumblr asked for a fic where Bucky talks to Loki about what happened to him, relating it, somewhat, to his own experiences. 
> 
> I'm a big fan of the Loki & Bucky weird friendship, so I went for it. This was the result.

“Where were you,” James asked abruptly, lying on his couch and eating a bowl of dim sum - a meal he seemed fond of, but which Loki found infinitely inferior to pad Thai. Loki examined him for a moment before answering.

“When do you mean? I have been a great many places.”

“I meant-” James gestured with his chopsticks. He was relaxed, at ease - Loki felt almost warmed by the implicit trust that had not evaporated with Steve’s return. They were still…comrades, of a sort. Friends, perhaps. Loki had not expected that. “Between Asgard and here.”

Loki hoped the way he stiffened didn’t show, but despite James’s apparent relaxation his gaze was shrewd. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, just thinking,” James said with a shrug. “Your timeline - s’pretty clear. Except there’s this big blank spot between whatever happened on Asgard the first time and your coming here - the first time. I was wondering.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Have you been researching me?”

“Not really. I just listen when you talk, and when Steve talks.” James cocked his head. “I can pick out enough to tell there’s something there.”

“Enough?” Loki asked. He could hear the slight strain in his voice. James’s mouth twisted like he was trying to decide whether to speak or not.

“I know a thing or two about the holes you don’t want to talk about,” he said, after a moment, voice low. “Either you don’t remember it or you don’t like to think about it. I think it’s the latter.” Loki could feel his breathing turn shallow and tried to control it, the sensation of being  _seen_ uncomfortable, almost overwhelming.

“And you are curious what I am hiding?” He made himself ask.

“No,” James said, swinging his legs down off the couch and sitting up. “I’m curious what happened to you there. Have you actually told anyone?”

“I have said what is necessary,” Loki said, his voice tight. He stood, feeling an urge to leave (to run). “It is not something I need to - to dig out and flaunt.”

“So that’s a no.” James’s voice was mild, but his eyes were intense. “Look, I’m not saying? I’m not saying you  _need_ to, or whatever. But if you wanted…”

Loki summoned a sneer. “If I wanted to  _talk?”_

“Yeah,” James said calmly. “If you wanted.” His chin lifted slightly. “I know that you’re invincible and all. And I’m not saying you should  _unburden your soul_ to me. But it probably wouldn’t kill you. Might even help.”

“Did it help you?” Loki asked, mouth twisting.

“Yeah, actually,” James said, finally looking away. “Sometimes, it did.”

Loki fled, knowing it was rude but too much of a coward to linger, his heart beating hard and fear clawing at the back of his mind.

* * *

He returned to James perhaps a day later and apologized, stiffly, for his hasty exit. James shrugged, apparently in acceptance.

“It is not an easy question to answer,” Loki said after a moment, the words almost pulled out of him. “Where I was. It - is not in the Nine. Somewhere outside of them, in between them.”

“Like the place you took me,” James said. Loki nodded, then shook his head, the movements jerky.

“Like and - not like. It was - strange. Many of my memories are not…clear.” His mouth felt dry, and Loki swallowed hard. “It is…complicated to explain.”

“Yeah?” James looked casual, but Loki could tell he was listening closely.

“Yes.” Loki twitched his shoulders. “You asked where I was.”

“And you’ve given me a whole lot of non-answers,” James said, half smiling. “But that’s fine. I’m not really interested in the technical details.”

Loki pressed his lips together for a moment. “What  _are_ you interested in?”

“You,” James said, his head canted a little to the side. “Or - all right, that sounded weird. But I guess it’s not untrue. You’re not big on sharing and that’s fine. But…I don’t know. You helped me.”

There was something faintly raw to James’s voice, briefly, that made Loki distinctly uncomfortable. “I did?”

James stared at him, eyebrows rising. “Yeah. You helped…find me, for one. Back when…after. And you were…a friend.” That wasn’t quite a question, but almost. Like he was asking permission to say it. Loki didn’t argue, but he didn’t give it either. “When I was recovering and you visited. It was nice to have someone who didn’t…expect anything from me.”

Loki nearly gulped. “I tried to kill you,” he tried. James shrugged.

“I tried to kill Steve. Hasn’t seemed to hurt my, uh, relationship with him. And that’s not even getting into…what you did more recently.” Loki considered pretending incomprehension but that seemed likely to just make the squirming feeling in his gut worse. 

“So you feel you owe me, is that it?” 

“No,” James said. “Just. Making an offer.“ 

Loki made himself laugh. “You made it sound like you thought my…experience…was somehow akin to yours.”

“Are you saying it wasn’t?” 

Loki’s stomach roiled uneasily. “I would not say so.”

“So what was it like?” James didn’t sound curious, exactly. Or worried. He sounded like he was simply…asking. Loki heard himself make a small noise at the back of his throat and looked away, his heartbeat quickening again. James was silent for several long moments and then said, more quietly, “is it that much of a secret?” 

“It is not a  _secret.”_

“You act like it is. And you haven’t told anyone. Isn’t that the definition of a secret?” 

“It is not that…” Loki shook his head. “They would get the wrong idea. He would. I do not want…” His pity. 

“Do you think I’d get the wrong idea?” Loki wasn’t sure how to answer that. Wasn’t sure he knew the answer. “Does it help if I guess?” Loki didn’t answer that, either, even less sure. He saw James nod out of the corner of his eye. “Right. Wherever you were - someone hurt you. Tortured, probably. They didn’t  _make_ you do anything, that’s what you keep thinking. You still made the decision. But if you told anyone else they’d think you were forced into it, and you don’t want that because that would mean them knowing you weren’t in control, and you’d rather be in control than have it seem like anything wasn’t your fault.”

Loki jerked. He turned his head sharply, staring at James, wondering if - but no, he would know if the man had been in his mind. Had he spoken carelessly - no, he was too careful for that. James gave him a grim smile. “Wondering how I know? When I started remembering things - everyone kept telling me  _it wasn’t you._ I hated it. I wanted to beat all the damn therapists to death for saying it. Even Steve, sometimes. Because it felt like…I’d rather be a monster than some kind of empty tool pushed around by HYDRA.” James’s shoulders had drawn up, and Loki felt a sudden sting of guilt.

“You do not need to discuss this with me,” he said. James shook his head sharply, once. 

“Course I don’t. I’m doing it anyway. You get the point, don’t you?” 

Loki got it. It made him feel…strange. Shamed, and that strange shivery unease that came with his truths being perceived. And something deeper, almost relief.

“I  _did_ make my own choices,” he said. His voice sounded strange, like he was speaking with his throat half closed. “I took the chance I thought best, that I thought might gain me most. I took the freedom given me and used it to attack your realm. That was mine.” 

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” James said. “I guess I just wonder if…I don’t know. For Steve - you’re only letting him see half the picture.”

“The half I’d rather he see,” Loki countered. James seemed to consider that, and then nodded. 

“And me?” Loki blinked, and James’s eyes met his, strangely calm. “What about what I see?” 

Loki’s mouth felt dry. “You already know it,” he said. “You said it.”

“I guessed at a vague outline.”

Loki wanted to pant. He kept his breathing slow with an effort. “James…”

“You don’t have to. Only if you want to.” How was he so  _calm,_ Loki wanted to know. How could he remain so  _steady_ when Loki felt as though everything was wobbling on its axis? He thought of Steve, and of rising in a SHIELD base underground, fear and rage and desperation (and power, at last, power) surging through him like a river.

“For a long time it seemed they wanted nothing,” Loki said, the words boiling up and out of him like vomit, as though they’d been there all along waiting for him to spew them out. “Only to - pull me apart and stare at my component pieces, like a curiosity dropped into their laps. I thought - I thought at first I was in Hel. Pain taught me otherwise.” A stuttering laugh crawled up his throat and out into the air. “My magic was gone. Used up and like a guttering flame, just from keeping me alive.  _Alive,_ when I sought anything else.” His hands twitched and trembled at his sides and Loki clenched them. “Nothing I said mattered. Nothing I did mattered. Or so it seemed. And I tried, I offered anything, everything-” 

His voice broke off.  _Shame. A true son of Asgard would die before giving in. Have you no pride?_  He remembered his thoughts then, still just as searing now. James said nothing, neither to comfort nor condemn. Loki kept his eyes open, staring past his shoulder.

“–but I made my own choices. Always, I - chose. They did not control me. They could rip open my mind and paw through my thoughts but my will - my will remained my own.” It sounded so feeble, when he spoke it. He lapsed into silence. James did not say  _I’m sorry_ or  _how could you._ He just nodded, once. 

“It’s fine,” he said, after a long moment. Loki wanted to laugh.

“How is it  _fine?”_

“It just is,” James said. “Right? That’s not…it happened. But that’s not all you are. Either thing. Either the monster or the pawn.” He sounded like he was repeating words someone else had spoken. But he did not sound as though he believed the words to be a lie. Loki felt himself shudder. 

_I would have done anything to please him, by the end. I was desperate for his kindness. I would have_ offered,  _because I was afraid, and because I craved a single kind word, a single gentle touch._

Those words, he was not ready to speak. “You are kind,” he said eventually. It sounded fragile and small. James laughed.

“Ha, yeah. No I’m not. I’m definitely not  _kind.”_ His mouth twisted. “But I get it. Maybe not completely. I don’t think anyone’s…shit is ever the same. But I still get it.”

“You are kind to me,” Loki amended. James shrugged. 

“Maybe. Maybe I just like knowing I’m not the only one fucked in the head.” His smile was crooked and fairly mirthless. Loki huffed a quiet laugh.

“Oh,” he said, voice soft and a little ragged. “Far from it, I think.” He shuddered again and Barnes was there, suddenly, steadying him. His metal hand patted Loki’s arm, awkwardly. 

“You’re probably right,” he said. And paused. “You should tell him.”

Loki gave James a baleful look. “Why would I ever do that?”

James shrugged. “He deserves to know.” He paused, and added, “I think he already does, sort of. More than you think. Steve’s smart. And some of the things he’s said to me…” James trailed off. “Anyway. You should tell him.”

“I do not want his misplaced pity,” Loki said, trying to summon anger. His voice came out too brittle to approximate it. 

“You don’t have to want it. He still deserves to know.” James let out a breath. “It’s not a choice, right? You don’t have to be…either/or. That’s what they keep telling me. Figure maybe someone should tell you.”

_Is that all there is? Virtuous or villainous? Isn’t there an in between? Can’t you be that?_ Steve’s words, from a long time ago, came back to him. He shook his head, not exactly sure what he was shaking his head to. “I need to go.”

“Yeah,” James said, sounding resigned. “I figured you might.” Loki felt a pang of guilt - sharp, but not sharp enough to make him stay.

“I am sorry,” he made himself say. And, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” James said. Loki wasn’t sure how to translate the tone of his voice. Like the coward he always had been, he left without speaking further.


	14. unquiet dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki dreams. They're seldom good ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon asked me for Loki having a nightmare about Thanos and Steve comforting him, and what am I but a sucker for that thing, exactly. Some warnings for gore. This takes place after "(hang on) when the water is rising", chronologically within the 'verse.

He has displeased Thanos.

Loki knows that, and he has spent every possible moment of the last few days trying to understand how. Which was to say every moment that the Chitauri were not with him. That was how he knew Thanos was displeased - his protector, his guardian.

(His master, his owner.)

If he could just figure out what he did wrong, then…

Better to focus on that than the feeling of his back flayed to raw meat and the swollen feeling of his tongue, dry and heavy in his mouth from lack of moisture. It is hard to focus, his shoulders straining to carry his weight, strung up like a side of meat not quite above the ground. The burns on his stomach have begun to heal to shiny red, no longer weeping clear fluid, but it still hurts, as most of him hurts, in one way or another. He should be used to the pain, Loki thinks, but every time it begins to dull the Chitauri find a new way to make it fresh.

Right now, the worst of it is the thirst.

Between the blood lost during the flaying itself (and he did bleed, bleed and scream and squirm until his thoughts grayed out, and then it waited until he recovered to start again) and the continued lack of water, his throat feels like sandpaper, his tongue like a slug, sticky and thick. The dizziness comes and goes like the ringing in his ears, fading in and out. The Chitauri hiss at him and call him weak for needing so much water. Their chitinous, insect-like exterior, it seems, allows them to go months on end with no more moisture than they get from their food - food which nature Loki tries not to consider too closely. At the moment, though, he would take anything, if only it gave him an ounce of moisture.

He still feels his heartbeat pick up and begin to race at the sound of approaching footsteps, softer than the drones and with the accompanying whisper of robes. He would know that approach if he were blind - did know it, when he was, back in the time when he did not understand the price of Thanos’s displeasure and what it meant to be abandoned, when he still clung to shreds of pride like someone with something to lose.

He says nothing, trying to turn his thoughts back to the Titan, to what he may have done to earn this. Thanos does not ask much, and never what he cannot give.

“Frostling,” the lieutenant says, and Loki cannot keep himself from inhaling sharply, though he does not make any other sound. “You endure better now, than before.”

Does he? Loki cannot be certain. 

“Even a runt can be trained,” it says. A response boils up on Loki’s tongue but he swallows it back. Any venom he spits will only be forced back down his throat. Perhaps literally: it played that game once, though Loki’s memories of it are mercifully vague. He keeps his eyes unfocused, offering nothing. “You would ignore me, frostling worm?” There is a faint trace of annoyance, though not anger. “My master may find you amusing, but I…”

Its four fingered hand flashes up, pressing to the side of his head, and Loki’s body lights up with pain. 

(There is no way to prepare for it, when it happens this way. It is in his mind only - as far as Loki knows, this could be sustained forever and he might well survive, feeling every moment as though he would burn up, implode, be consumed by the sheer _ferocity_ of it. There is no preparation, no bracing for it, no slow building to a crescendo - the lieutenant simply reaches into Loki’s mind, as flayed as his back, and flicks a switch, and there is nothing but agony.)

When it stops Loki is limp and shuddering, his exhales like whimpers. He can almost taste Thor’s name tangled at the back of his throat, but this time he managed not to speak it. He knows Thor will not come. Not Thor, who looked at him with scorn as Loki slipped into the dark. (No, that isn’t right - but it must be, because Thor _isn’t here-_ )

He can feel Thanos’s lieutenant rummaging through his memories and shudders at the violation, but objection will only result in worse. This, too, he knows from experience. Whatever it is seeking, it seems to find, for it withdraws and steps back.

Loki blinks and it is Steve looking at him, though his expression is dispassionate, cold. “Such elaborate fantasies you weave,” Steve says, while Loki is still confused, registering that something is strange. “A great-hearted savior to lift you out of the mire of your own pathetic filth.” Steve’s mouth twists. “Too much time…too much freedom.”

“Wait,” Loki says. His voice sounds small, weak.

“That will be amended. When you are ours once more.” 

Loki’s heart starts pounding and his throat closes. “No,” he says, his voice thin and reedy, “ _No…”_ He can feel it now, the hooks in his mind, digging in, and he should be safe from this, he _should be safe-_

“Loki? _Loki!”  
_

Loki struggles to wake up. The dream (sending) tugs at him, clinging like burrs, trying to hold him down. It doesn’t want to let him go. For a moment when he opens his eyes his vision doubles and he can see Thanos, watching him. _I will find you,_ he says. _Whatever bolthole you have found-_

 _“Loki,”_ says Steve’s voice, and he blinks and it is Steve only, the dark of the Void ebbing away into a wash of golden lamplight and his lover hovering over him.

(The dark is still there, though. He can feel his head throbbing, the rawness where someone was clawing for purchase, reaching across the great expanse of space to turn his mind inside out. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t-)

“Loki,” Steve says again, and Loki can hear the fear in his voice even though he tries for calm. “You’re here, you’re safe, take a deep breath.”

(Am I here, Loki thinks wildly, or is this a trick? It is just a dream, he tries to tell himself, awakened by the reminder of what lurks in the dark, the name he so lately dared to speak aloud to anyone but himself. They know, now, they can prepare, but they do not understand.)

“Loki, talk to me,” Steve says anxiously. “You’re scaring me.”

(He is going to come, Loki thinks. He will come and slaughter you all, and put me on a leash to watch, and not grant me the mercy of death at all. One Infinity Stone has power you can barely comprehend, and five-)

Steve’s hand is warm on his neck. “Loki, please,” he says.

“I am sorry,” Loki manages. His voice sounds rough, almost a croak, as though he has been screaming, or like the time one of the drones tore out his vocal cords and they healed back slowly. He is shuddering and can’t stop.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Steve says. “Just tell me - how can I help?” 

(You can’t, Loki thinks, feeling cold all over. There is nothing you can do.)

He says nothing, but lets Steve take him in his arms, moving limply to lean against his chest, head slumping on his shoulder. He feels raw, exposed. Sleep is not safe and he cannot be certain waking is either. 

Perhaps he is not here at all, but still trapped in a snare, and as soon as he relaxes, Steve will reach into his chest and tear out his heart. _You fool, did you think you could have this?_ He will say. _You have nothing. Nothing that Thanos does not give you._ He is living on borrowed time.

“It’s all right,” Steve says, stroking his hair, and Loki realizes he is making small sounds, like a whining dog, at the back of his throat. “It’s all right. You’re all right.”

He is not, and it is not. Oh Norns, it is not.


	15. the ice is thin, come on, dive in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki needs to harden his mental defenses. Wanda already got through them once; why not ask her to do it again?
> 
> (Wanda is pretty sure this is a terrible idea. She's right.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do plan to write more dealing with the Loki and Wanda relationship, because it is very, very interesting to me - in all contexts, tbh. But right now, especially in this verse. 
> 
> Do I maybe also have too much fun writing Loki making stupid decisions about his own health and well being? Oh, probably. But we all are who we are.

Wanda bit her lip. “This sounds like a bad idea.”

Loki crossed his arms. “How do you mean.” 

“It just…” She inhaled through her nose and exhaled slowly. “Does. You _want_ me to…”

“Attempt to attack my mind, yes,” Loki said impatiently. “As you did the first time we met. Was I not clear enough?” 

Wanda narrowed her eyes. “Don’t get snippy with me,” she said. “I _understood._ I still think that it’s a bad idea.”

Loki cast his eyes skyward. “I am _asking_ you,” he said. “If you are feeling some sort of _moral_ qualm - which, as you’ve already done it, seems absurd to me-”

“It’s different,” Wanda interrupted. “I was _fighting_ you then.”

“Are you worried you are going to hurt me?” Loki let his voice drip with mockery. “I am a bit more resilient than that. And besides, that is, rather, the point.” Wanda narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth, and Loki made an impatient gesture. “No, listen. I believed my defenses were secure enough to prevent anyone from reaching into my mind. You proved otherwise. I would like to correct that, _before_ I encounter someone else who may exploit the same weakness, and if I wish to understand where I need to work…” He spread his hands. Wanda did not look convinced. 

“Can’t I just _tell_ you what I did?” 

“Norns save me,” Loki muttered, and exhaled slowly. “No. It would not be even a tenth as effective.” She was still looking at him, plainly dubious. “It is no different from sparring with your comrades,” he said, with some frustration. “Do you fear I will lash out at you? I have better control than that.”

An odd look crossed Wanda’s face. “Do you?” 

Loki felt his hackles rise. “What do you mean by that?” 

“It’s just - last time.” She looked uncomfortable. “You…”

“Last time,” Loki said firmly, though he could feel his skin crawl at the memory, “I was not ready and you were attacking me.” Wanda still looked uncertain. “Lady Maximoff,” Loki said, trying to moderate his tone, “I would not ask you if I did not believe this necessary.”

“I know.” She sounded pained, but Loki could see that she was surrendering. “All right,” she said finally. “I’ll do it. Just…”

“Just what,” Loki said, and let there be a warning in his voice. She took it, grimacing, and shook her head. He set his feet. “Well, go on then.”

Wanda blinked. “Now?”

“Do you have something else to do?”

“No,” she said, “but-”

Loki resisted the urge to snarl. “But _what.”_

Wanda looked like she wanted to wince. “Does…Captain Rogers know you’re doing this?”

Loki stared at her, but she did not back down. “The Captain is my lover, not my minder,” he said flatly. Wanda looked pained. “Do you fear he will be angered with you? I shall _ensure_ he knows that I _coerced_ you into it. Now stop dawdling - or do you fear that a prepared opponent will be too difficult for you?” 

Her eyes flashed. He’d touched her pride. Still, even as he felt her gathering herself, she paused. “If anything goes wrong…just tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”

Loki flashed his teeth at her. “I shall keep that in mind.” 

He readied himself, disarming the traps in his mind and bracing himself. He remembered how her magic felt, and that had not changed - like a brush of wind, or water, none of the metallic tang of Doom’s power. He forced his muscles to stay loose even as part of him rebelled even at that much. 

He needed to know he could fight off an invasion, if need be. Needed to know that his mind was safe. 

This time, he did not try to shut her out. Water and wind could find even the smallest crack in a wall. Better to try to nudge their course in other directions. “Are you ready?” Wanda’s voice sounded very far away. 

“Get on with it,” Loki heard himself snap.

His first thought was that her training had paid off. Her magic did not break through the defenses he had painstakingly built over years; it simply ignored them. Even before he had made the first move he was lost. He scrambled to recover lost ground as tendrils of power wove into his mind and-

_kneeling on broken stone, coughing out blood and breathing in ragged gasps. “Worthless,” hissed Thanos’s lackey. “Why the Master favors you is beyond my understanding.”_

_“I-” Loki spat. His mouth tasted like copper and his tongue throbbed where he had bitten it. “I suspect most things are.”  
_

_It backhanded him hard enough to knock him sideways, so he had to catch himself and his mouth filled with blood again, cheek splitting open on his teeth. Loki automatically reached for his magic to lash out and howled as pain seared down his spine, setting off fireworks in his brain. When he recovered, it was with his head hanging, panting hard._

_“You are a pathetic child,” the Chitauri spat. “Thanos may have given you command, but do not forget who commands you.” Its fingers carressed the back of his neck. “And if you fail…”  
_

_Loki set his teeth. “I will not fail.”_

_He could not. There was nothing-_

Nothing-

“Loki,” and that was the witch’s voice, sounding alarmed. “Can you - look at me. Maybe I should call someone.” She was turning, when Loki’s vision cleared, and he grabbed her wrist, aware that his grip was probably too tight. 

“No,” he said. His voice felt rough, scraping over his throat. _Pathetic,_ a vicious voice at the back of his mind murmured. _Weak as a kitten. Weaker. Have you any claws at all?_ “Do not.”

The witch looked frustrated. “You look like you’re going to be sick and you weren’t responding to me for a good minute even after I stopped - I _knew_ this was a bad idea.”

“I am not going to be sick.” Loki was far from certain of that, but at least he could wait until he was alone, probably. “Do not fetch anyone. There is no need. I am quite…recovered.” What did you see, he wanted to demand. What did you _do._ He raised one hand and ran it through his hair, only to realize that it was shaking. 

“Uh huh,” The witch said, sounding profoundly skeptical. Loki pretended not to notice.

“Clearly,” he said, “I need to try harder.” 

The witch, he noticed vaguely, looked pale as well. “I’m not doing that again,” she said promptly. Loki felt his mouth twist.

“Then I will find someone else.” 

“Loki-” She made a frustrated huffing sound and muttered something in Sokovian about _just like her brother,_ which Loki did not appreciate. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I told you,” he said flatly. “It is necessary.” He could still feel the Other’s fingers on his neck. Its touch on his mind, like slime. He felt his shoulders hunch. “But I will not press you further today. If you will excuse me.” He turned, needing to retreat. To go somewhere private to…hide.

Wanda hesitated, then spoke, slowly. “I didn’t mean to,” she said. “But when I…I saw something.”

Loki felt himself stiffen. “Something,” he said, not looking back at her. 

“I am sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to pry.Was that…”

Loki felt his chest tighten, his lungs constricting. “Are you asking if it was real?” Wanda did not answer. Loki turned, lifting his chin and meeting her eyes. “Does it matter if it was?”

Something softened in Wanda’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. Loki felt nausea surge, saliva filling his mouth. He swallowed, and swallowed again.

“Do not pity me,” he nearly snarled. “I do not need it. I do not _want_ it.”

Wanda’s expression went stubborn. “It’s not pity.” 

“Whatever it is,” Loki said. “Keep it to yourself.” He took as deep a breath as he could manage. “And pray. Do not…do not mention this to the Captain. He frets enough as it is.” He strode away from her without waiting for a response.

_Do not forget who commands you._

Oh, he did not. Could not.

He would just have to do better.


	16. the serpent's tale has come undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A follow-up to the last chapter. Wanda tries to confront Loki about what's in his head. Loki is having none of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossposting from my Tumblr. I have a bit of a _thing_ , it turns out, for Loki and Wanda having some kind of relationship? Even if it doesn't start out as a friendly one (which in most of my headcanons it doesn't). An anon asked for Wanda confronting Loki about what she saw in his head during "hang on" and, well, I already had written the last chapter...so it just got a sequel. Because Wanda is stubborn and doesn't like just leaving things unresolved.

The witch had been hovering for the last twenty minutes, apparently unwilling to interrupt Loki’s ostentatious pretending to read, but equally unwilling to simply leave him alone.

“Is there something you wanted to discuss,” Loki said flatly, attempting to make clear in his voice that he had no interest in discussing anything.

“Yes,” she said, either not aware of the hint or refusing to take it. “Actually, there is.”

“Fascinating,” Loki said, refusing to look up from his book on Midgardian biology, even though he’d been reading the same page for the last twenty minutes - since noticing the witch’s hovering, in fact. He could almost hear her nostrils flare, temper rising. She bit it back, though. That was almost disappointing - it would be easier to chase her away if she was angry.

“What you asked me to do,” she said, and Loki felt himself tense. 

“I will not ask you again, if that is what you fear,” he said tightly. “You made clear you were…uncomfortable.”

“So who _are_ you going to ask? Somehow I doubt you’re going to give up on the idea. You said as much.”

Loki snapped his book closed. “That is none of your concern.”

She glared at him. “You _made_ it my concern.”

Loki fixed a cold stare on her. “What exactly _is_ your concern,” he demanded, voice a warning that she, as usual, ignored.

“What I saw,” she insisted, and Loki had to fight not to flinch. “What happened to you.”

Loki felt his shoulders draw up and bared his teeth. “Is none of your business. You should not have seen it at all.”

“You _told_ me to try to get into your head!” Wanda’s voice rose. “Do you expect me to just _forget-”_

“I expect you to let it go,” Loki said, standing. She did not look intimidated, even though she had to crane her neck to keep meeting his eyes.

“I _can’t,”_ she said. “The first time - it felt like I was going to _drown._ You almost dragged me down with you. And then this time-”

“I am very sorry to have _inconvenienced_ you,” Loki snapped. The witch clenched her fists. 

“That is _not_ what I’m saying. I just wanted to-” She blew out a harsh breath. “I wanted to ask if you are all _right.”_

“Yes,” Loki said without hesitation, flatly. “Entirely. Thank you for your concern. Is that all?”

The witch’s gaze accused. “Liar.” Loki forced his mouth into a smile.

“That _is_ what I do, is it not?”

“Why do you have to-” She cut off, and glared at him. “You are worse than my brother.” 

“You wound me,” Loki said blandly, pressing a hand to his heart. “How shall I _ever_ recover.” Her lips twitched like she was considering laughing, but it faded quickly, as did the accusation, her expression softening. She seemed to be thinking.

“At first,” she said, “When Hydra recruited Pietro and I…they were not so bad. But later, when we began to manifest our powers…” she paused. “Strucker was always certain to make it clear that we belonged to them. That we owed…our lives to them.”

Loki looked at her, waiting for the question, but it didn’t come. “You know he is dead,” he said at length. “James killed him.”

“I know.” Wanda sighed out, and glanced away from him for a moment before looking back. “Those…things. The…Chitauri? and - the other one. Their master.”

Loki shifted, feeling a perverse relief that she did not speak his name. “What of them,” he said flatly, carefully. The witch chewed her lower lip.

“Just a glimpse of your memories gave me bad dreams,” she said after a long moment. “I can only imagine what it is like to live with yours.”

A shudder ran down his spine and Loki’s stomach clenched. He couldn’t hold her gaze. _Do not look at me,_ he wanted to say. _No one should see how weak I am, have been. The despicable crawling thing I truly am._ “What do you want,” he said, turning away from her. Keeping his voice toneless.

“I don’t _want_ anything.” Wanda sounded frustrated. “I’m just offering…sympathy. And saying that I’d listen, if you wanted.” Loki opened his mouth, and she interrupted, sounding peeved. “Yes, I know, _you don’t want pity_ , you said it before. And I told you: it’s not pity.”

Something curdled in Loki’s entrails. James and Thor and all of them, all of them seemed to think he should want to _talk_ about it, as though reopening old wounds would help them heal. And now her, the witch who had seen more of his secrets than Loki wanted anyone to know. “Why,” he grated.

She frowned. “Why…”

“Why offer,” Loki said. “Why do you care? We are not - _friends._ We are scarcely even friendly acquaintances.”

“That wasn’t _my_ decision,” she said. Loki stared at her, and her cheeks flushed slightly pink. “It was just an offer.”

Loki continued to stare at her. _You must not have seen much if you have been in my mind and would still offer kindness,_ was the thought that popped into his head, but it was not one he would ever speak. “Your offer is noted,” he said finally. “Thank you for your…consideration,” he added after a moment. Wanda made a face like that wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but she turned away, apparently letting the matter drop - only to pause.

“I _care,”_ she said suddenly, “because no one deserves to suffer alone. The more you keep things locked in your head the more someone can use them against you. Sometimes nightmares lose their power when they’re spoken.”

“Not when they are real,” Loki said. Wanda’s stubborn expression softened.

“Even when they are real,” she said. “Trust me. I know.”

She swept out, leaving Loki frowning after her.


	17. the belly of the beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Doom wants, Doom gets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, someone asked me for more Loki POV of his Doomcation and _who am I to say no_ this has nothing to do with my thing for torture fic or my thing for Doom's weird Loki obsession that is, I swear, totally canonical. I'll keep talking about this until people stop thinking I'm weird. 
> 
> Anyway: content warning for medical experimentation, obviously. And all that other fun stuff associated with. 
> 
> I'm not always a very nice ficcer.

The pungent scent of smelling salts brings Loki back to awareness, though it is a groggy one. He reaches for his magic, half reflexive, and it slips out of his reach.

“Dosage induced eighteen hours of unconsciousness,” he hears, though it sounds far away, or heard through water. “Waking forced through ammonia inhalants, so full duration unknown.” Loki forces his eyes open and has to close them, light blazing in his eyes. He can feel a metal collar across his throat, arms spread-eagled and manacled down. 

“Victor,” he slurs. His tongue feels thick and unwieldy. “I will - kill you. Make garlands of your entrails.”

“Suppressants effective,” Victor’s voice says, without so much as a hitch. “Subject unable to access extranormal abilities.” A soft click. Loki knows when the light is turned away from his face and opens his eyes to see Doom’s metal mask. 

“Release me,” Loki snarls, “and I will consider forgiving this.”

“You broke our agreement,” Doom says. “I am no longer bound by the terms of our agreement. Draw a full breath.” 

Loki inhales and opens his mouth to snap a response, but Victor presses something plastic over his nose and mouth and he can’t-

-can’t breathe-

The panic sets in quickly, his body bucking up against the metal holding him down. Victor is watching, mask impassive as always, and Loki’s hate flares up hot and fierce before it is drowned out by his body’s clamoring need for _air._

He is beginning to hear his heart thundering in his ears, spots starting to appear at the corners of his vision. Some small part of him is surprised that Doom is ending this already. He would have thought the man would draw it out. Would be crueller, too, than death by suffocation, though with panic clawing at him and his body screaming Loki cannot think of it as merciful. 

Oblivion reaches for him. Loki knows it well, and a part of him reaches back. His head is spinning and stars pop behind his eyes.

The world blinks out. 

–and comes back, as Loki gasps a lungful of air, a flood of relief. “Nine minutes of oxygen deprivation to unconsciousness,” Victor says. Recording his observations, Loki realizes, his stomach lurching as he gulps for air, thirsty for it. Desperate. “Impressive,” Victor adds, and Loki thinks it might be directed at him. “I knew you were exceptional, of course. But putting numbers to it will help me determine just how much.”

“I will rip out your throat with my teeth,” Loki promises, breathless. 

“Do not be a savage,” Victor says. He approaches, this time just sliding a needle into Loki’s arm - but that is enough, the small violation still making his skin creep. He draws three large vials of blood before sealing the vein with a bizarre kind of care. Loki clenches his fists, open and closed. He can feel bruises forming on his neck where the metal marked his skin as he struggled for air. He sets the vials aside and picks up a gleaming metal instrument, brings the edge to Loki’s arm, and slices downward. 

The pain hits a second late (sharp, the blade is _sharp_ ) and Loki hisses at the heat of it, fist clenching reflexively only to release at the spike of agony that results. _You have taken worse,_ he tells himself, and he has, of course he has, but it has been some time and he has grown accustomed to comfort. Doom sets aside his tool and watches, waiting, as the flow of blood slows, healing beginning to knit the shallow wound back together.

“Fascinating,” Victor murmurs. “So your regenerative capabilities are not linked to your magic.” He turns away, making some note on a piece of paper. “How far that extends…” His eyes roam over Loki’s naked body, and Loki has never felt more exposed, Victor’s eyes peeling away his skin, seeing him as meat and blood and bone.

“You are a fool,” Loki snarls. “If you think you can hold me forever-”

“I am no fool,” Victor interrupts, with a flash of temper. “I am the future of science. Of the world. And you…you are going to help me. I would have had you willing. But this will be easier.”

There is a quiet, sick horror growing in Loki’s gut. He knew Victor had madness in him. Knew he was dangerous. But he did not think he was clever enough for this, and he underestimated the lust he’d glimpsed. The thirst. 

Victor is going to take him apart. He will crack into Loki’s bones and scoop out the marrow. He will pull apart Loki’s viscera seeking his magic. He will dismantle Loki, a little at a time, until he has what he wants, and what he wants is _everything._

“You should be honored,” Victor says, eyes gleaming through the mask. “The knowledge you help me gain will change the world.”


	18. share and share alike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki finds ways to make himself comfortable at Avengers headquarters upstate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set post "hang on (when the water is rising)" - a situation I will explore more in upcoming fics (I hope) but for now have this fluffy, silly, oneshot, as requested by an anon.

Steve managed, for once, to slip out without waking Loki, leaaving him fast asleep in the…somewhat less than luxurious quarters he kept at the upstate facility. (He probably could have had better, but he’d chosen not to for a lot of reasons.) He’d paused at the doorway for one last look at Loki’s mussed hair, limbs sprawled carelessly in every direction, before heading out for training. 

He half expected Loki to pop up at some point during the day, probably an inopportune moment, but he didn’t show. Steve chose not to mention his presence, not particularly interested in making Wanda twitchy or Pietro irritable. Maybe if Loki didn’t insist on remaining on the fringes of things, not quite a part of the team but not quite _not_ either…

Steve stifled that thought. It was Loki’s call to make, and he’d never make it if he thought he was being pushed in any particular direction. Steve just had to wait and see and be patient. 

Still, he was a little disappointed that Loki didn’t even come out to show his face. And then a little worried, because if Loki wasn’t out then what _was_ he doing?

When Steve sent him a quick message asking about his whereabouts, though, Loki simply wrote _a sitting room,_ which didn’t tell Steve much. He went hunting after the new Avengers had finished drills, and tracked Loki down by the sound of clashing swords coming from a widescreen TV. Steve couldn’t help but smile a little as he stepped through the doorway.

“I thought you were going to say hi,” he said, to the back of Loki’s head. 

“I thought about it,” Loki said easily, “but I decided I wanted to catch up on this _Vikings_ nonsense instead.” He gestured at the TV, which obligingly clicked off. Steve strolled over around the couch and paused, surprised. 

Loki appeared to have foregone putting on a shirt - an omission that made Steve’s face warm - at least mostly. He _was_ wearing a navy hoodie that looked a little oversized on him, unzipped and loose on his shoulders. Even more startling was what he was wearing for bottoms: a pair of grey sweats. Steve didn’t think he’d ever seen Loki in sweats. No, he was _sure_ he’d never seen Loki in sweats. 

He realized he’d been staring when Loki’s eyebrows rose. “Something the matter, Captain?” 

“No,” Steve said. The hoodie looked almost exactly like one of his that he’d worn a couple days ago for a workout. But that was… “No, you’re just…dressed very casually. For you. Not that it’s a bad thing,” he added quickly. “I just…” he laughed, a little. “I didn’t think you owned sweatpants, or hoodies.” 

“I do not,” Loki said, leaning his head back and smiling up at Steve. 

Steve frowned. “Then-” Oh, he thought, looking at Loki again. 

“I hope you do not mind my borrowing your clothing.” Loki stretched his legs out, somehow elegant even in grey sweatpants. “It looked very comfortable, and I felt lazy.” He glanced sidelong at Steve, a slightly sly smile touching his mouth. “And the…hoodie?…smells like you.” 

Steve cleared his throat, cheeks warming, but he couldn’t keep from smiling. There was something… _nice,_ about Loki just borrowing his clothes to wear. Something comfortable and familiar and probably he was thinking too much about it.

He moved around and sat down next to Loki, putting an arm around his shoulders. “I don’t mind,” he said. “Borrow whatever you want, as long as I’m not wearing it right then.” Loki’s eyes narrowed, a faint gleam creeping into them.

“Careful,” he said. “Does that include your dashing uniform?” 

Steve tried to picture Loki wearing the Captain America suit and couldn’t decide if it was weirdly affecting or just weird. “If I don’t say no now you’re going to do something with it, aren’t you,” he said. Loki’s smile widened, and Steve shook his head, trying not to smile himself. “No, Loki. Anything _except_ the uniform.”

“Spoilsport,” Loki murmured. He brought his legs up onto the couch and leaned into Steve, who rubbed his sweatshirt clad shoulder absently. It wasn’t just the borrowing itself, he reflected, a little self-conscious. Some part of him liked seeing Loki wearing something of his. Like a lady wearing a fella’s suit jacket, or something. 

Maybe he should get a ring, Steve thought absently, and then almost jolted. There was a thought. 

“That’s what I do,” Steve said belatedly. He paused. “One thing, though. You know you’d usually _zip_ the hoodie.” 

“Why hide a good thing, Captain,” Loki said, so daintily that Steve had to laugh, shaking his head.


	19. flow gently, sweet Afton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Loki's Doomnapping, Steve and Loki take a moment for something nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I wrote in the notes for this originally on Tumblr: "this is what happens when you’re craving porn for your otp and then write…not that. or, a reviewer on “when I’m falling I’m at peace” asked for a scene of them taking a bath, as mentioned in that fic, and I was like “sounds cute let’s do it” and it ended up possibly being more melancholy than cute but w h a t e v e r"
> 
> I feel like this sums up a lot of my ficcing experience.

If Steve was honest with himself, the way Loki was now terrified him. He was so fragile, skittish; he stayed close to Steve and visibly deteriorated when he was gone for any span of time. And through that Steve could see his awareness of it, too: frustration and anger and self-disgust layered on top of the fear. Steve was familiar. But seeing it on Loki now, fresh and raw and Steve felt like a bull in a china shop; if he turned the wrong way he’d break something. Loki, maybe.

And it was also…he didn’t know how to fix it and selfishly that hurt, watching Loki suffer and unable to do anything to make it go away. Wishing he could do what Loki had done for him, after Sin, and take Loki’s nightmares away, or ease the pain Loki refused to cop to but was visible in the drawn look of his face, but Steve didn’t have that kind of magic.

All he could do was run a bath, hands rubbing nervously on his legs in between testing the water temperature, and hope his instincts weren’t leading him wrong.

When he though he had the temperature right, Steve left the bathroom and went back to the bedroom, knocking on the door before entering. Loki was propped up on the pillows and swathed in a robe, sipping a glass of water and a book open on his lap. He still looked pale, circles bruise-dark around his eyes and cheekbones slightly too sharp, the bruises around his throat that were his only visible injuries still vivid for all they were fading.

“Hey,” Steve said, summoning a smile. “Thought you might…want to wash today.”

Loki blinked at him, and Steve felt a sharp stab of fear that he’d said something wrong. “Is this your way of telling me that I am beginning to smell?” Loki asked. His voice was light, but Steve wasn’t entirely sure it was a joke.

“No,” he said quickly. “Just…thought it might be nice. Now that you can, since the bandages are off.” He chewed the inside of his cheek. “Started running a bath for you.”

Loki’s expression shifted, but Steve still wasn’t sure what it meant. It seemed harder to read Loki’s expressions again; Steve suspected he was deliberately masking them, and he wished he felt like he could tell Loki to stop, that he didn’t need to, without making it worse. “Oh,” he said after a moment, gingerly closing the book. The motion drew Steve’s attention to the still ugly marks on Loki’s hands, right through the center, and he tried not to flinch. “I think…that does sound pleasant.”

Steve let out a relieved breath. “Do you,” he started to ask, but then caught himself. Loki wouldn’t ask for help, would just be annoyed by the question. He stayed where he was, hovering awkwardly, though Loki stood – if not with ease, still perfectly steady. He just tired terrifyingly easily, still.

“I’ll go check on the water,” Steve said, and went back to the bathroom. Loki joined him a moment later as Steve turned the tap off. Looking at his bare feet on the tile, Steve pushed down the urge to tell him to put on some slippers. Loki began untying his bathrobe and Steve hesitated. “Do you – want me to stay?”

Loki’s eyes flickered toward Steve, his hands stilling. “I assumed…” He stopped. “Would you sooner not?” So damn hesitant, Steve thought. He missed the confidence, the cockiness. Even the arrogance. He made himself smile.

“Nah,” he said. “I just…didn’t want to assume.”

The ghost of a smile flickered on Loki’s lips. “Ah, Captain. As though I would ever turn down the chance to soak in hot water with your naked body against mine.” Steve felt his face warm, but he also felt a wave of relief at Loki sounding – even a little more like himself.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, blush or not. He started unbuttoning his shirt, only to stop when Loki shed the robe, naked underneath. Steve had to try not to suck in a breath. He’d seen Loki’s wounds, of course, all too close and personal, but somehow it still made his stomach lurch, seeing the clean, straight scar bisecting Loki’s chest, still livid and angry looking. It stretched from just below his collarbone to below his sternum. Two diagonal, equally vivid scars slashed up toward Loki’s shoulders, the marks where Doom had-

Steve felt nauseous. He realized Loki was looking at him, his expression pained. “I thought you had seen,” he said, turning away, and Steve could see the humiliation on his face, the shame, as he reached for the robe again. “Perhaps you should not-”

“No,” Steve interrupted, and then shook his head. “No, sorry, I shouldn’t interrupt, but…” He took a step toward Loki, reaching out. Loki held very still, and Steve’s fingers brushed Loki’s chest to the left of the scar. “I’m just…sorry.”

Loki’s eyes closed. “Do not be.”

 _Can’t stop me,_ Steve thought, but the wryness that should’ve been there was missing from the thought. “ _You_ don’t…it’s not you,” Steve said. “Not the…scars. Just…makes me sick. Knowing, seeing…”

Loki nodded, jerkily, and Steve let himself trail off. He cleared his throat. “Go ahead and get in,” he said. “I’ll come in after.” He watched Loki lower himself slowly into the water, shedding his shirt and pants, folding them both carefully. When the water hit the edges of the wound on Loki’s chest, he made a soft sound and Steve’s heart rate kicked up.

“Does it – is it-”

“Fine,” Loki said. “It just…feels odd. Still…sensitive.” He closed his eyes, head falling back as he sank in deeper. Steve stepped out of his boxers and folded those, too.

“But not bad,” he said, just confirming. “You don’t think it’s…”

“It is fine,” Loki said. For a moment, Steve felt a clenching twist in his chest, looking at Loki’s eyes closed and his body limp, a flash to his dreams ever since Loki had disappeared – the ones that hadn’t stopped with his return. He shook it off.

“Sit up a little?” He asked. Loki hummed, and sat up, moving a little forward, leaving just enough room in the Jacuzzi bathtub for Steve to step in behind him, leaning back against the edge and reaching forward to pull Loki to him, back resting on Steve’s stomach and head on his chest. Loki leaned into him with a very quiet sigh. “Good?”

“Yes,” Loki said. Some tension went out of Steve’s body. At least it was something.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, and kissed the side of Loki’s head. Loki was quiet for a long time and Steve didn’t speak either, just listening to the slow, even sound of Loki’s breathing

“I am not going to break,” Loki said suddenly.

“What?” Steve said stupidly. He could see that Loki’s eyes were open, but he was staring straight ahead.

“I know you are afraid,” Loki said. “I can see the way you look at me. You fear I will – fall apart. Shatter. I will not.”

 _I’m not as sure of that as you are,_ Steve thought privately, thinking of the utter lack of understanding or consciousness that had been in Loki’s eyes when he’d first awoken, the brittle way he carried himself. “I’m just worried,” he said. Tried to smile. “I do that sometimes.”

“You do it too much.” Loki sighed. “I wanted to…remove that burden, at least. I do not wish you to begin to resent me, believing that I cannot stand on my own.”

“I know you can,” Steve said. “That doesn’t mean you have to. I’m not going to resent you.”

Loki made a noncommittal noise that Steve knew meant he didn’t believe it but also didn’t want to argue. Normally he might have pressed the point, but right now he didn’t want to, didn’t want to risk pushing Loki too far in any direction. He just bent his head and kissed Loki’s shoulder, focusing on the weight of Loki’s body against his and the faint smell of his skin.

“Want me to wash your hair?” He asked, already reaching for the shampoo before Loki nodded. He shifted a little awkwardly to wet his hair as Steve poured some shampoo into his hands and rubbed them together. Loki tipped his head back and Steve started at his scalp, working his hair into a lather from roots to ends, trying to massage Loki’s head as he worked. He watched Loki’s shoulders slide down a little further.

“Feels good,” he murmured, and Steve smiled.

“Supposed to,” he said back. “Rinse?”

Loki ducked back under. When he surfaced, it was to slide back against Steve again. Steve ran his hands over Loki’s shoulders, down his sides. Loki twitched, very slightly, and he stilled.

“No,” Loki said softly. “Don’t stop. It’s good to…it is good. Your touch feels different.” Steve felt a chill go through him, remembering what Loki had said: _I can still feel his hands._

“Then I won’t stop,” Steve said, keeping his voice from trembling with what felt like an effort. He let his fingers roam over Loki’s belly, up over his chest – avoiding the scars. Loki let out a shuddering exhale and shifted against him, and Steve wanted to swear as his cock responded to Loki’s closeness. He knew Loki felt it by the way his breathing momentarily caught and shifted rhythm. “Sorry,” he said quickly. “I don’t…”

“It is fine.” Loki huffed, quietly. “Almost a relief. If even part of you can find me desirable like this…”

The way Loki had turned away at Steve’s reaction to his scars took on a new layer of meaning. “It’s not that – of course I do,” he said, flushing. “But you’re hurt, healing…”

Loki smiled, very faintly. “I could not manage anything strenuous, that is true. But that does not mean you must remain perfectly chaste.”

“Okay,” Steve said after a moment. “But I don’t think – not right now. I just want to hold you.” He let his hands fan out over Loki’s skin, treasuring all the places it was smooth and whole. He felt Loki shudder again, but his exhale didn’t sound pained or distressed.

Loki would heal, Steve reminded himself. Of course he would.

It was just going to take time.


	20. watching me explode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes Loki from a nightmare. It takes Loki a little longer to come back all the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful [thelightofthingshopedfor](http://thelightofthingshopedfor.tumblr.com) / 100indecisions requested (for a prompt meme) Loki having flashbacks of some kind and Steve talking him down. This is set in a period of time I plan to write more about at some point (but haven't done yet) which is to say between "with an untrained voice" and "reflected in someone like me" - between Loki taking up refuge in the Tower and Steve and Loki becoming a full fledged official Relationship.
> 
> I think that's about all the notes I've got for this one. At this point you probably know the rest.

It was Thursday, and Steve was running late for his regular visit to Loki’s suite.

Steve was still feeling the bruises from their dust-up with some kind of robot in Herald Square, but though he paused long enough to take a shower and change he headed upstairs anyway. 

In a slight concession to his aching hip, he took the elevator instead of the stairs. 

Things were still too…fragile for Steve to want to cancel on Loki. He believed Loki wasn’t going to bolt - he’d given his word, after all - but Steve wanted more than that. He wanted Avengers Tower not to be a prison. He wanted to keep Loki’s…if not trust, at least his regard. 

 _Regard,_ Steve thought, and felt his face heat up. _Is that what the kids are calling it these days?_

Though - since Loki had officially moved in, he had hardly touched Steve at all. Steve caught him - looking, sometimes, like he wanted to, but he didn’t and so Steve didn’t. He didn’t want to push, if Loki had…if he wasn’t ready. Or…had changed his mind. 

(His body was less patient; Steve woke up sweating and hard sometimes from vivid dreams where Loki didn’t stop at a kiss that night in the kitchenette, minding none of Steve’s brain’s reminders to _take it slow_.)

So he wasn’t going to risk Loki thinking - whatever Loki might think, if Steve didn’t show. Loki put up walls when he was hurt, and Steve thought he had more than enough walls to contend with. 

He limped out of the elevator and knocked on the door, two taps, and waited a moment before opening it. That was new: last week Loki had informed him that he assumed Steve was capable of opening doors himself. Steve took it as a victory: Loki allowing him freer access to his territory. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, a little breathless and taking a moment to lean on the doorframe, wincing as he rolled his shoulder. “Little bit of a scuffle we had to deal with-” 

He broke off when he saw Loki. His eyes were closed and his head was slumped back, mouth slightly open, plainly deep asleep in one of the chairs. There was a book open on his lap where he’d probably set it down before dropping off. Steve felt a smile tugging at his mouth and couldn’t resist pulling out his phone and snapping a quick picture. It was…cute. Even the small downturn at the corners of Loki’s mouth just made him look younger. 

Steve caught himself just standing there smiling like a dope and watching Loki sleep, and moved inside. There was a blanket on the couch, so he pulled it off and draped it lightly over Loki, picking up the book and marking Loki’s place before setting it on the table. He moved slowly and gingerly, aware that Loki might wake up, but he slept on: the deep, heavy sleep of the exhausted. 

At that thought Steve paused and looked at Loki’s face again. The circles around his eyes almost never fully vanished, but they seemed darker, and that Loki was sleeping this heavily…

“Are you taking care of yourself?” Steve asked softly, but Loki just shifted slightly, muttering something under his breath as his head turned to the other side. 

Steve shook his head and went to the kitchen to write a note. He wasn’t about to disturb what looked like much needed rest, and he didn’t think Loki would want him here watching him sleep, but he thought at least he should know Steve had been there. He’d definitely want to know who’d moved the blanket and the book. 

 _Loki,_ he wrote, _came up but it looked like you were having a good nap. Feel free to call me when you wake up if you want._ He examined the words, trying to decide if they sounded all right. Trying to think how Loki would read them. 

He heard a noise from the living room and looked over, wondering if Loki was waking up. He still looked fast asleep, though, and he hadn’t moved. Still, Steve felt vague unease starting and so he held still, waiting. This time, he heard the sound clearly: not quite a whine. Loki twitched and Steve tensed, thinking of the way Loki had screamed in his sleep in the cell. He abandoned the note, stepping back toward the living room. Loki was murmuring something, he realized, unease growing. Under his breath, barely audible. Steve strained his ears to hear and could hear the words, spoken rapidly with no pause to inhale:

“I’m not yours I will not I will not give in I will not what are you doing please no please-” 

His voice broke off. It wasn’t a scream, just a tiny gasp followed by a sort of “ _ahhhh”_ sound, half voiced, but all Steve could think was that it sounded like the kind of noise someone might make if they were trying to scream and couldn’t. 

His stomach lurched and his first urge was to lunge forward and wake Loki at once, but he remembered how that had gone the last time. Would touching him now help or hurt? “Loki,” he tried, hoping his voice would reach down wherever Loki was right now, whatever memory (Doom? Steve thought, or something else) held him trapped. “It’s me. Steve Rogers. You’re safe.”

Loki didn’t seem to hear him. His breathing was turning rapid and shallow, his body twisting, hands clutching at nothing. And he was talking again:

“I am Loki, I am Loki son of - no, no - I will kill you kill all of you and bathe in your blood stop stop _stop-”_

Loki surged up, his eyes opening wide. His flailing limbs tangled in the blanket. Steve saw the panic flood him and didn’t even have time to shout before something slammed into his chest and threw him across the room. He managed to hit the floor so he didn’t damage anything too badly, though his body screamed at him for putting it through more abuse. If JARVIS was watching and called the Avengers-

“Loki!” He said, raising his voice. “You’re not there! He can’t hurt you.”

Loki was on his feet but he looked like a wild animal caught at bay, eyes flicking toward the exits, inches away from running, feet braced ready for a fight. Steve stayed where he was, on the floor, and held up his hands. 

“Loki,” he said, making his voice drop back down, forcing himself to sound _calm._ He tried to think of - techniques, exercises. “Are you hearing me?”

He could hear Loki panting from here. He looked confused, uncertain. Steve swallowed hard, keeping his hands still. At least he wasn’t attacking again. At least he seemed to recognize that Steve wasn’t a threat. Maybe. 

“I want you to - focus on my voice,” he said, feeling a little foolish and pushing through it. “Just listen to me, all right? Whatever else is happening - forget it. Just focus on what I’m saying. It’s okay.” He paused, trying to think.

Loki’s face was ash pale. Steve saw a flicker of wariness. “Still listening?” Steve said quickly. “Still focusing on my voice? That’s good. I, uh. I was just going to tell you I was sorry I was late. It’s Thursday, remember? I always come on Thursdays.” 

Loki swallowed. He licked his lips. “Would he know to use you,” he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. Steve’s stomach clenched but he kept his face calm. Neutral to cheerful. 

“He wouldn’t,” Steve said, though honestly he had no idea what Loki was talking about. Had Doom somehow - induced hallucinations? Or something? He pushed that away to wonder about later. “It’s just me. Just - Steve. Captain.” God, but Loki was going to hate this. It might ruin everything Steve’d been trying to build. 

He pushed that away, too. It was more important right now to get Loki out of his panic. 

Loki swallowed again, but his gaze seemed to be clearing a little. “Steve,” he echoed. Steve made himself nod. 

“Yep.” Loki’s shoulders were still moving with his short, shallow breathing. “Can you do something for me?” Steve said. “Can you - slow down your breathing? Just a little.” Loki inhaled in a gasp, but it seemed deeper than before, and the exhale a little longer. Steve could see him fighting for it, for every inch, and he wanted to stand up and go over and offer - something, hold him steady (just hold him). He stayed where he was, not quite daring yet. 

“That’s good,” he said encouragingly, “That’s good, Loki. Right?”

Finally, Loki wobbled. He staggered back to the chair and half fell into it, one shaking hand rising to cover his eyes. Steve stood up, finally, trying not to groan, and edged slowly over. 

“Can I get you anything,” he asked, quietly. 

“No.” Loki still sounded like he was fighting to get air, his shoulders locked tight as a country club gate. Steve wanted to reach out and lay a hand on them. After a moment, not sure it would be welcomed but willing to risk it, he did. A small shudder ran through Loki’s body but he didn’t object, or pull away, and after a moment’s hesitation Steve left it. 

“I shouldn’t have…” Loki trailed off. He made a quiet noise that Steve thought was supposed to be a laugh. “That was unwise.” 

“What,” Steve said. “Sleeping?”

“Yes,” Loki said. The corners of his mouth twitched, but not like he was going to smile. Steve looked for the ottoman and pulled it over to sit on it, close enough that he could keep a hand in contact with Loki’s shoulder. “I thought if I was tired enough perhaps…” Steve felt a pang, but before he could answer Loki shook himself. “No matter. Did I…” He pulled his hand from his eyes and sat up. His eyebrows furrowed and he reached out toward Steve’s face, only to pull back. “You are bruised.”

“Not you,” Steve said, trying to smile. “Don’t go trying to take credit. Avengers stuff.” Though he was going to have new bruises, on his back. He didn’t think it would do anyone any good to mention those. 

Loki’s jaw worked. He glanced away for a moment, and then rasied a hand back toward Steve, this time just his shoulder. “May I?” 

“Sure,” Steve said, before realizing that he had no idea what he’d agreed to. Loki’s hand landed lightly on his shoulder and Steve’s whole body tingled as he felt magic sweep through him, making Steve want to shiver - not unpleasantly. The ache in his body eased dramatically, little pains vanishing and the bigger ones diminishing. Steve felt his eyes widen even as Loki pulled away.

“Wow,” he said. “I…thanks.” He hesitated, though, and added, “you didn’t have to do that.”

Loki did not look at him. “You could have walked away,” he said, quietly. It took Steve a moment to understand and then he just felt - sad. 

“No, I really couldn’t have,” he said, just as quietly. Loki seemed to - flinch, maybe. But he still didn’t pull away from Steve’s hand resting on his shoulder. Steve cleared his throat. “Does this…does this happen often?” 

“Often enough,” Loki said dully, after a breath. 

 _Is it Doom,_ Steve wanted to ask. _Tell me what you’re afraid of and I can help. If you’d let me in, let someone in,_ but he knew pushing Loki like that would be the fastest way to get him to withdraw. “I’m sorry,” he said. Loki laughed roughly.

“Why are you sorry? I do not wake screaming from dreams of you.”

A stupid part of Steve wanted to ask _what do you wake doing from dreams of me_ or maybe _so you dream about me too?_ Now wasn’t the time. “I just…” He paused. “It’s hard. I know that. And miserable. And I’m sorry that you have to suffer it.” He paused. “If you want I could…ask Bruce for something that’d help you sleep.”

Loki shook his head sharply. “No,” he said. “It is - worse when I cannot wake. Then there is simply no escaping.” He shuddered, and looked away, shoulder at last twitching out from under Steve’s hand. “If it pleases you, Captain, perhaps we might discuss something else.”

Steve let his hand fall, trying not to feel a pang. “Of course,” he said. “Anything you want.” He could almost see Loki closing himself off again. But he hadn’t told Steve to leave. He hadn’t lashed out - except the once, when he was panicking. 

It was progress, Steve told himself. Slow, and stumbling. But still.


	21. held lightly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minor injuries provoke major worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small h/c fill for a prompt on Tumblr by [thelightofthingshopedfor](http://thelightofthingshopedfor.tumblr.com) that ended up more about emotional stuff than really...hurt/comfort per se. But whatever close enough?? Maybe. 
> 
> I'm not actually sure where this is set. Somewhere nebulous.

“I am perfectly all right,” Loki said.

“I’d find that more credible if you didn’t say that about _little things_ like concussions and stab wounds,” Steve said, maybe a little snappishly. “Now hold still and let me look.” 

Loki let out a sigh as though Steve was being particularly unreasonable, but he held still, letting Steve examine his shoulder. He leaned in, trying not to hiss in sympathy at what looked to him like a deep and ugly wound, already puffy and inflamed. He shook his head. “I think you should-”

“See a healer, yes, yes,” Loki said dismissively. “There is no need.” 

“It could get infected,” Steve said stubbornly.

“Unlikely,” Loki said. 

Steve rubbed his eyes. “Will you let _me_ clean and dress it, at least?” 

Loki opened his mouth, and closed it. After a moment, he exhaled through his nose. “Yes,” he said, sounding a little more subdued. “That would be fine.”

“Oh, good,” Steve said. Loki gave him a narrow-eyed look and Steve shook his head. “Come on, you.”

* * *

He sat Loki down on the toilet in the bathroom and pulled out the first aid kit, starting with hydrogen peroxide. It fizzed violently, but Loki only betrayed the slightest of shudders despite the fact that it had to sting like hell. Next he pulled out the steri-strips to hold the edges of the wound together, drying the area with gauze. 

“You are angry,” Loki said at length.

“I’m not,” Steve said tersely. Which he wasn’t. Not really. He considered putting antibiotic ointment on, but decided he had no idea what kind of natural defenses Loki’s body used anyway, and it wasn’t likely to do any more than they would. 

“That is patently untrue,” Loki said, and flinched with a slight hiss as Steve pressed gauze into the wound, soaking up the blood still leaking sluggishly. “I can tell that you are - at least irritated.”

Steve took a breath and let it out slowly, counting to five. “I’m not mad at you,” he said finally, more carefully. “I just…worry.”

Loki scoffed. “This is hardly a serious injury.” 

Steve felt his face pinch. “Sometimes I think you’d say the same thing if someone stabbed you in the heart,” he said, pressing the gauze down maybe a little harder than necessary. “And besides, it’s not about it being serious or not, it’s about you being reckless with yourself. If I took the kind of chances you do-”

Loki shook his head. “You are more vulnerable than I.” 

Steve squeezed his eyes closed. “You say that and I wonder if what you’re really saying is that I’m more _valuable_ than you are.” The two beats of silence were just a little too long. “Yeah,” Steve said heavily. “I thought so.”

“This is not a productive conversation for us to have,” Loki said, glancing away. Steve sat back and looked at him, trying to catch his eye.

“Why not?” 

Loki grimaced. “It only upsets you. And I know-”

“You don’t,” Steve interrupted. “You think, you feel, and you’ve convinced yourself it’s logical, but it’s not.” Loki’s expression flickered, and Steve pressed on. “What if I said that it made sense for me to be reckless because I’m weaker than you are? You’re more powerful and you have skills no one else has. So-”

“That isn’t how it works,” Loki said, suddenly fierce, and Steve nodded shortly. 

“Makes just as much sense as your argument.” Loki said nothing, his lips twisting, and Steve reached out to touch his shoulder. “Whoever…or whatever…made you think you’re not worth it - they were wrong. Are wrong.”

Loki shook his head slowly. “It is not that simple.” 

“Why not?” Steve asked, trying to make his voice gentle, but it came out more stubborn. Loki sighed, and Steve tried not to think of Loki saying _sometimes there were moments when I danced in front of Death like a lure, to see if she would bite._ He pulled the gauze away and threw it in the trash, going back to the steri-strips. “Can you just…try to be more careful? For…for me, if nothing else. Today it wasn’t bad, but…”

Loki sighed. “I will do my best, Captain.”

It wasn’t much. Steve was painfully aware it wasn’t much. But at least it was something. He made himself smile, bending forward to finish his work. “Good,” he said. “I guess that’s all I can ask.”


	22. no matter if I sink or fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awaiting his trial, Loki writes letters. (Set during This Is My Kingdom Come.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt from a recent Steve/Loki convert (WELCOME TO THE FUN PIT) for the phrase "things you didn't say."

Loki watched Steve and Frigga go, expression holding until he was certain they were gone. He waited a few more minutes before he tapped lightly on the door and waited for it to open, one of the guards - Odr’s guards, Loki could tell by the threading on their coats - looking in through a small crack. He summoned a smile he hoped looked ingratiating. 

“I would like materials for writing three letters,” he said. “Pen, ink, and paper, if you please.”

The guard looked at him in silence, and then shut the door. Loki stepped back, hoping that was assent and not a sign that he was to be ignored for the rest of his time here. He did not want to go to his trial hungry. 

 _Don’t give up,_ Steve kept saying, had tried to insist, and he was not, but in case…in case. He needed to be realistic. And if he did not have a chance to say his farewells (did not want to give Steve or Thor the chance to do anything reckless)…

The writing materials were slipped through the door. Loki fetched them from the floor and used the bedside table as a makeshift table, his stomach clenching as he inked the tip of the pen and held it poised above the first piece of paper. 

Perhaps it would be better not to write anything. Perhaps his words would only bring more grief, and it would be better to die silently. _No,_ he thought, _no, you know better than that. Don’t be a coward._

He wrote the letter to Frigga first. In some ways that was the easiest - he told her he forgave her (not quite a lie) and that he loved her (not a lie). That he had understood what he might sacrifice, in doing what he had, and accepted it. That it was worthwhile: for Asgard, for Thor, for Steve. _Take care of them both,_ he wrote. _Know that I am sorry for the pain I caused you. Thank you, for accepting me as you did. For your kindness, even though I was not yours._

Thor’s was harder. He paused several times, swallowing hard, turning his face away so nothing smudged the ink. _Inhale, exhale._ His hand shook at first, but steadied as he went on. _Brother. For so you are, and were. You have grown - a thing I once thought was impossible. I think now you will be a good king. Know this was my choice. You could not have stopped me._

Tried to write everything but _I forgive you._ But he could be kind. All the reasons he had for being angry with Thor were still there, but they were…quieter. Burned down. (Like he felt, sometimes.)

 _I was never yours to save,_ he wrote, at the end. _In truth, I am glad to be the one to save you, this time._

He sealed Thor’s letter into an envelope, labeled it in scrawling hand, and set it aside. Turned to look at the last blank sheet of paper, and closed his eyes. There were only two things he needed to say, in truth: _I love you_ and _I am sorry._  But that wasn’t enough. 

He stood up and paced around the small room. Thinking of Steve made his chest feel tight, like he was suffocating again, this time without the poison. It was a good thing, he thought, that he would not see Steve again before the trial; he was afraid if he did he would not be able to resist saying _I changed my mind, run with me, the universe is fast, they cannot follow us forever._

He sat down and wrote. 

> _Steve,_
> 
> _It is not your fault. I know you will not believe that, but I will write it and write it again: it is not your fault. Let me have this. Let me keep you safe. You have done so much for me; let me do this for you._
> 
> _I do not know what to write. Should I tell you what I see in you, why I kept coming back and back and back even before I knew I wanted you? Should I try to express what you have done to me, made of me, so much better than I believed possible? Or talk about the joy you let me experience that makes this utterly, utterly worth it? You know all these things, I hope._
> 
> _You are loved. Look to Thor, to James, to Sam. Let them hold you. Grieve, but not too much. Mourn, but not too long. You deserve better than to let your heart wither. You have always deserved better._
> 
> _But I am sorry, all the same. You have been abandoned enough, and here I am, it must seem, doing the same. You gave me your heart for safekeeping, and what poor care I have taken of it._
> 
> _I do not say it enough. I love you. In ways I did not know I could, and with an intensity that terrifies me. I love you._

Loki’s vision blurred, and he stopped. Stared down at the words, his eyes burning, and felt very distant from himself. As though he had wished himself somewhere far away. He read the words he’d written and looked at the other letters, sealed and labeled, _to be opened upon my death._

He looked at the letter to Steve again. Read it again. 

_I do not say it enough. I love you._

He swept all the letters to the floor and set them on fire. _No,_ he thought. _No words._

Loki laid on his back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, counting each inhale and exhale until his thoughts were empty, still, silent.


	23. debts owed, debts paid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pietro has some words for Loki, after all is said and done in Sokovia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a combination of prompts by an anon: "things you said through gritted teeth" and "things you said after it was over". Set at some point after "hang on (when the water is rising)".

“Was it you?” 

Loki tucked his finger in his book and looked up ostentatiously slowly. It looked like it was taking an effort of will for Pietro Maximoff to hold still, his every muscle stiff. “I did not hear a knock,” he said mildly. 

“There wasn’t one,” Pietro said. “Answer the question.”

“I do not appreciate being interrupted,” Loki said, voice carefully even. “Most particularly not by vague questions. If you have something to say, be more precise.” 

For a moment he thought Pietro would hit him. Loki might not be able to catch him, but he could _certainly_ respond in kind. A moment later Pietro’s lip curled, though, and he glanced away. “You know what I mean.” His accent was thicker than his sister’s, particularly in irritation. “In Sokovia. Was it you?” 

“No,” Loki said, ostentatiously examining his nails. “Certainly not. It was my twin.” Pietro’s jaw clenched, and Loki rolled his eyes. “A stupid question gains a stupid answer. I _was_ in Sokovia. I still do not see your point.” 

“I am not blind,” Pietro said, words nearly bitten off. “Or an idiot. I saw the bullets bounce back in mid air, as though off something invisible. And I saw what was left of the Ultrons on the ground. Did you do that?” 

Loki paused, looking at the Maximoff brother with his eyes half closed. He considered lying, but ultimately decided there was no real point. By the looks of it, he thought he knew already. A denial would only make him more sure. Loki shrugged. “I did,” he said, carefully casual. 

Pietro’s jaw tightened and relaxed. “Why?” 

His direct dislike was almost refreshing, Loki thought idly. He picked up his book and flipped through the pages. “The same reason I do anything: it suited me.”

“That isn’t an answer,” Pietro said.

“Not a satisfying one,” Loki corrected. “Now move along. I was enjoying my solitude.” 

Pietro moved, and Loki just caught the flick of movement before his book was flung across the room. “Don’t ignore me,” he snapped. Loki raised his eyes slowly to Pietro’s, and saw him tense, but he went on. “You made quite clear that you wished me and my sister dead.”

“Oh, good,” Loki said smoothly. “I was wondering if you had picked up on that.” 

Pietro’s fists clenched. “You aggravating-” He broke off. “Is it so difficult for you to give a simple explanation?”

“Nearly impossible.” Loki used just a touch of magic to push Pietro back and stand, taking advantage of every inch of height he had on him. “I saved your life for no better reason than a moment’s whim. I do not see why you seek more than that.” He padded across the room to pick up his book. “Now, if you please?” He gestured toward the door. The Maximoff brother shifted. 

“Thank you,” he said. Grudging, almost inaudible. Loki blinked. 

“What?” 

“Thank you,” Pietro said louder, through gritted teeth, looking as though he resented having to say it and was bearing some great trial. “I might have been quick enough, but…it is possible that you saved my life.” Loki felt his eyebrows rise further, toward his hairline.

“Oh?” He said, still a little blankly. Of all the things he had expected Pietro to say, that was not one of them. 

“Possible,” Pietro emphasized. “And I am. Grateful.” He met Loki’s eyes, expression that of a man conducting some highly distasteful task. “So. Thank you.”

Loki blinked again. “You are welcome,” he said, finally. “I suppose that is the proper response.” Pietro stared at him like he was expecting something else, and Loki stared back. “Was there something else?”

“No,” Pietro muttered. “Nothing else.” Then he was gone. Loki stared at the empty doorway, eyebrows furrowed and a little at a loss.


	24. at which he starts and wakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What dreams may come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt about Loki waking up crying from a nightmare.

_You know the price of failure. Do not disappoint me._

Loki woke from the dream (memory, sending) to Steve shaking him, face tight with worry.  He blinked and felt liquid spill over, down his cheeks. 

“You were crying,” Steve said, voice slightly strained. Loki closed his eyes, trying to pull himself back under control, but the tears kept falling, as though his face were not quite under control. 

“I am sorry for waking you,” he said, and his voice came out sounding slightly roughened. He wondered if it was anything more than just memories freshened again by speaking the Titan’s name, or something more. There was no way to know for certain, not unless Thanos truly managed to reach him and cracked his mind open like an egg to do what he liked with it. Which he might.

“Loki…” Steve sighed, and shook his head. “Are you…” he trailed off, seeming to think better of that question. “What were you dreaming about?“ 

“I do not remember,” Loki lied. He could almost feel Steve frowning at him, but with his eyes closed he could pretend not to know, even as his eyes continued to betray him. 

Steve just sighed, after several moments of silence, and shifted. He pulled Loki in, tucking his head under his chin, warm and solid body pressed close. Loki felt himself shudder, heard a sort of hitching noise that was not quite a sob burst from his chest, and wanted to cringe. “Loki?” There was a faint note of alarm in Steve’s voice; Loki could feel the vibrations of it in his throat, against his ear. 

_You know the price of failure._ “Nothing,” he made himself say, another shuddering hitch going through him. “It is nothing.”

“It clearly isn’t,” Steve said stubbornly. Loki squeezed his eyes more tightly closed, feeling himself tremble.  _Stop,_ he thought, but couldn’t make himself say it, a lump rising in his throat.  _I am afraid,_ he could not say.  _None of you know what we will face like I do._  He felt himself start to shake in earnest, another hitching sound escaping as shame dug its claws into him. “Loki,” Steve said, his voice quieter. “It’s okay. You’re fine.”

Loki felt himself crack, and this time he could not pretend it was not a sob, and once there was one another followed, and another. Steve’s arms tightened around him like he could hold the world away, like he could make a shield of himself between Loki and his fear. 

_You cannot,_ Loki would have told him, if he could catch his breath, if he could stop _weeping_ like a damned  _child. You cannot protect me._ But oh, he wanted Steve to. Wanted to trust that his strength and determination would be enough.

“Shh,” Steve said, and Loki made a soft, wounded noise, could feel Steve flinch at it. “Hey,  _hey._ You’re here.”

The worst of it faded, slowly, the tremors trailing off like the aftershocks of an earthquake, the tears drying salty on his face. 

“Apologies,” Loki exhaled, and heard Steve exhale harshly. 

“Don’t,” he said, not quite harsh, and then quieter, “don’t. You don’t need to apologize. I just wish you’d-” He broke off, and then said, “I wish you’d tell me how to help you." 

_You cannot,_ a part of Loki whispered, but he shook his head. "It does help. This.” He could feel Steve’s shirt damp against his cheek.  

“Does it?” Steve said, but it sounded like it was directed more at himself than anything, and a moment later his fingers fanned out on Loki’s back and he sighed. “Good. I’m…I’m glad I can do this, at least." 

_It is all right_ , Loki wanted to say.  _I know you cannot fix me. If you could, I know that you would. I know that you love me._

_I know that I will give up anything to save you._

"It’s not true that you don’t remember, is it,” Steve said, his voice heavy. 

“Does it matter?” Loki asked softly. 

“It matters if you don’t feel like you can tell me,” Steve said. Loki closed his eyes and sighed, moving his hands to Steve’s chest where he could feel his heartbeat. 

“Old scars,” he murmured. “That is all. Made new again." 

"Not ‘all’,” Steve said. “Those…that kind still hurts.”

“I can endure a little hurt, Captain,” Loki murmured.

“Can, yeah,” Steve said, something strange in his voice. “But you  _shouldn’t._ God knows you’ve been hurt plenty. Enough is enough, isn’t it?”  _Is it,_  Loki thought, brief and wild. He knew better than to speak it, and stayed quiet. “It is,” Steve said, more firmly. “It really is.”

Loki sighed. “You cannot take it away, my Captain.”

“I can try,” Steve said, with that particular endearing obstinacy that made Loki smile, ever so faintly.


	25. crash landing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki's point of view at a certain (probably obvious) point of "[The sun no longer shines (on your side)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/758050)." Because I am constantly a sucker for writing different POVs of my own fic, I guess? Yeah, I think you might've picked up on that already.

Stabbing pain spiked through his torso with every step he took, his core one great mass of pain. His head spun and Loki struggled to keep his footing, stumbling and falling to his knees. His heart was racing and he could taste blood at the back of his throat - or maybe that was from his tongue. 

_Keep moving,_ what fragments of thought he could hold onto screamed.  _He’ll catch you, drag you back._ He held his magic tighter, the little he’d managed to scrape together, a man in a desert clutching his near empty waterskin.

Stupid, he thought bitterly. Stupid. He needed to - to be gone. Not here. 

He had barely enough magic to take himself out of the world and back again, staggering. He caught himself clumsily on a wall and stared at the bloody handprint left behind. The mark of a dying animal, he thought deliriously, remembering hunts spent tracking prey by the blood trail left behind after they were wounded. Safest, with boar, to let them bleed a while, weaken, before closing for the kill. 

Loki took a staggering step forward, still clinging to the wall, panic clawing at his chest. He thought he might break apart, if he wasn’t careful. Splinter and end up in shards on the floor of - of-

Oh, Loki realized. He wanted to laugh. He had been thinking  _safe,_ thinking  _refuge_ and his magic had taken him  _here. The home of the Avengers._

He knew why. It wasn’t the Avengers he’d come looking for. 

His eyes fixed on the couch but moving toward it meant letting go of the wall, and without its balance he couldn’t keep his footing. He crawled the last distance, body screaming, and dragged himself onto the couch, closing his eyes to try to ease the spinning of his head.

“Steve,” he croaked uselessly, hoping that Stark’s machine would hear him. There was no answer. He couldn’t remember if he was still shielded from its artificial sight. Loki shivered, cold creeping into his limbs - not the wash of near relief that had come with - the other change; the kind that came with loss of blood. 

He might bleed dry, right here. Alone, pathetic to the last. His final act crawling like a dog to the kindest kennelmaster it had known. Was this what Rogers had intended all along? That stripped of all his defenses, utterly helpless, Loki would come to him in need, forced to accept-

Loki slumped into the couch and closed his eyes. What did it matter? He would accept. Could not do otherwise. He could feel the strength leaking out of him, too little power left to hold him together. He let the world rock like a gentle sea. He was so very tired of fighting.

Time skipped and blurred together. He woke cold and shaky, sound fuzzy and distant, and Steve was bending over him, hands skittering over Loki’s chest. His heart did a pathetic little jump in his chest.  _Look at me,_ he wanted to say.  _Tell me, tell me,_ but he didn’t know what he wanted Steve to say. 

It didn’t matter. He could feel himself fading again. Loki swallowed hard. 

“I have been a fool,” he rasped. He wanted Steve to know that he knew. That he understood. Even if he’d only come here to die. “I suppose I…might have known. Drew the snare closed so slowly…”

And so sweetly. Steve looked genuinely concerned. Perhaps he’d grown fond of his pet. Worth a laugh, wasn’t it, that Loki had believed himself in control and all he’d done was lose it.

But it was finished now. The pain felt less immediate, the cold a part of him. His vision faded out around the edges.

If he could ask the dark a question, he thought it would be  _can I be done now?_


	26. settled into the glass half empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky invites Loki to join him for an activity. Loki wonders if this is what friendship looks like. (Set between "these little things define us" and "This Is My Kingdom Come".)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone told me they just wanted Bucky and Loki to have a good time but that was impossible. I can let characters have a good time. I can _so_ do that. See???
> 
> (These two emotionally dysfunctional weirdos. I love them.)

“Pottery,” Loki said, trying to convey the depth of his disbelief in one word. 

The tips of Barnes’ ears turned a little pink, but his expression was defiant. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I said.“

“You are asking if I want to-”

“Come with me to a pottery class. Yeah.” Barnes stuck his chin out, expression obstinate and tone almost belligerent. Loki blinked, utterly caught off guard. 

“I have never dabbled in pottery,” Loki said, by way of stalling. 

“That’s why it’s a class,” Barnes said. He rose jerkily to his feet and paced to one wall of his small room, rubbing his left shoulder in what Loki recognized as a nervous gesture. He frowned at Barnes’ back. 

“Would I even be welcome?” He asked dryly. “I was told that - hm. There are some _good people_ that I may as well have put here.” 

Barnes shrugged without turning around. “I asked. Got _permission_ and everything.” There was a trace of bitterness in his voice on that word; Loki could sympathize. “They keep me away from most of the other people here anyway.” 

Loki supposed that made sense. 

“Look,” Barnes said abruptly, “you can just say _no._ I’m not going to be _offended,_ it was just an idea.”

"Why not,” Loki said abruptly. Barnes went still, and then turned around to look at him, eyes narrowed. Loki stared back, eyebrows raised. 

“The next one’s Thursday at four,” Barnes said, almost a challenge. He hummed with brittle energy that made part of Loki wince and part want to push and find out how much force it would take to break it. He shoved the latter down where it belonged. It was not even so much that he _wanted_ Barnes broken so much as wondering how close he already was.

It occurred to Loki that he could not remember the last time he had received an invitation somewhere.

“Then I shall join you there,” Loki said, and leaned back in his chair. “Now. Are you going to come back so I can beat you again?” 

Barnes relaxed, barely perceptibly. “I _know_ you’re cheating,” he said. Loki smiled amiably at him. 

“Not until you prove it,” he said, and pushed the deck of cards across the table. “Your deal.”

* * *

When he showed up and requested directions to the pottery class, Loki received a very long look from the receptionist. Loki looked back at her with the most placid expression he could summon and watched her make a great show of checking a list, asking him to sign in, and typing something on her computer before giving him directions. Loki almost wished that he had simply asked Barnes and bypassed the desk entirely, but that might have caused some problems later. 

He wondered vaguely why he had not mentioned what he was doing to Steve. Why, in fact, he had not mentioned any of his unaccompanied visits to Steve. He would be pleased, undoubtedly. Perhaps that was why, in some fashion. It seemed Barnes had not mentioned it either, which was more interesting. 

He made his way to the room indicated and found that Barnes was not yet there. Three others were, however, and all of them stared at him hard enough that Loki wanted to bare his teeth in their direction. Ignoring them instead, Loki chose an empty table and sat down, keeping his posture the picture of regal relaxation.

When Barnes arrived, he was escorted by two - guards? orderlies? it was not clear to Loki - and his hands were cuffed. He looked a little testy, and Loki watched him out of the corner of his eye and saw when he noticed that he was there. A flash of something crossed his face. Humiliation, maybe. Loki held his place, not letting his face twitch, and a moment later Barnes’ was wiped blank.

They led him to the seat next to Loki, uncuffed his hands, and departed. Loki noted that the other occupants of the room kept their eyes carefully averted. 

“How nice of them to give you a proper escort,” Loki said mildly after a moment. Barnes coughed something like a laugh.

“Yeah. Regular royal treatment.” He straightened like he was shaking something off and glanced at Loki out of the corner of his eye. “You didn’t get any trouble?” 

“So long as no one finds the body before I leave,” Loki said lightly. Barnes gave him a sharp, alarmed look, and Loki flashed him a toothy grin. He stared, and then laughed, a little more genuine. 

“Might want to be careful who you say that to,” Barnes said. “Someone’s going to think you’re serious.”

The instructor, when she arrived, seemed determined to pretend as though there was nothing unusual about her crop of students, and even more determined to ignore Loki entirely. It made the back of his neck itch, but at least she did allow him to claim his own lump of clay, heavy and wet, the texture making Loki wrinkle his nose slightly. Barnes snickered and Loki flicked some slip at him, which won a frown for them both.

“Oh dear,” Loki murmured, “I think she’s noticed me.” 

“Hey. Rita likes me. Don’t ruin my good name,” Barnes said, and elbowed Loki in the ribs.

Loki went utterly still and a moment later Barnes seemed to realize what he’d done. He froze, his shoulders bunching up, brief fear flickering through his eyes. For a half second Loki teetered on the edge of responding, _he dares, no one touches me without my leave-_

He made himself relax. “What good name,” he said instead. Barnes exhaled in a rush. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but Loki could hear the relief in his put upon peevishness. _Fragile,_ Loki thought again. He didn’t doubt that Barnes remembered the feeling of Loki’s fingers around his throat. 

And yet he’d still asked Loki to come here and join him. Glancing at Barnes, Loki saw him focused on shaping his clay as instructed, expression smooth but not blank. Calm, Loki thought. That was it. 

* * *

“You _like_ this?” Loki asked, glaring at his lump of clay that still, despite his efforts, looked like a lump of clay. Barnes’ mouth twitched like he was trying to hold in a laugh. 

“What’s that supposed to be? A, uh…” He tilted his head to the side. “Lumpy fish?”

Loki hissed at him. “Ugh. And I have clay under my fingernails.”

“That’s real rough,” Barnes said, without sympathy, still shaping his bowl, which looked to Loki’s eye remarkably even. He narrowed his eyes at it. 

“How do you do it?” 

“Carefully,” Barnes said after a moment. “And slow.” His lips quirked slightly. “You should’ve seen me the first time around. Turns out it’s kind of tough to do a whole lot of fine motor working when you’ve got no sense of how much pressure is too much.” He glanced at his metal hand and twitched his fingers as if to illustrate. “First time I picked up a plum and tried to test it to see if it was ripe the damn thing exploded all over me.”

Loki had not considered that. He glanced at Barnes’ hand. “It is not…sensitive to that kind of thing?” 

Barnes’ lips twisted. “Sensitive enough to pull a trigger. That’s about it. I wasn’t exactly _designed_ for a lot of _finesse work.”_ Loki felt something peculiar shiver through him, not quite kinship, not quite pity. Sympathy, maybe. “But this…yeah. It helps train some of that.” 

“I see,” Loki said, a little awkwardly. He gestured at Barnes’ work. “I would not know it was an issue to see the results now.”

Barnes gave him a sidelong look. “Thanks.”

“Mmm.” Loki crumpled his clay to start over. 

“Besides,” Barnes added. “It’s kinda nice. Making something.” 

Loki glanced at him, surprised. His ears were a little pink again even though his face stayed blank. “I can see why that would be,” he said finally. He knew that feeling, too. The certainty that all you were good for was destruction and the need to prove otherwise. His stomach squirmed uncomfortably. 

“Why did you invite me here?” He asked, casting a quick shield around them to keep them from being overheard. Barnes paused for a moment before resuming with a shrug. 

“Felt like it.” Loki waited, and after a moment Barnes twitched slightly. “Does there need to be a reason?”

“Most often people do things for _some_ reason,” Loki said. “Even if it is a stupid one.” 

Barnes muttered something and sat up, turning to look at Loki with that defiance back in his expression. “Maybe I just wanted some company.”

“If that were the case you would have asked Steve,” Loki said. 

“ _Steve,”_ Barnes said, and there was so much in that single word. “I don’t want - he treats me like some kind of broken _thing_ sometimes and I can’t-” He cut off, pressing his lips together like he hadn’t meant to say any of that. Loki regretted asking. 

“So you wanted company,” he said after a pause. Barnes shrugged one shoulder, lapsing into sullen silence. 

This was something Barnes valued, Loki realized. A small thing, a minor freedom, even. And he’d decided for some inexplicable reason to share it with Loki. _Why?_

_Maybe he likes being around you._

Loki shifted. Heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Perhaps you could show me how this works,” he said, with a flick of a gesture at his clay. Barnes glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“If you’re going to get shitty and condescending,” he said, an edge on his voice. Loki scoffed. 

“Hardly,” he said. “I mislike not being good at things, and I am perfectly capable of using available resources to remedy that.” 

Barnes’ expression twitched. “You always use about twice as many words as you need to say something?”

“Often,” Loki said, summoning a grin. Barnes let out a kind of snort, lips twitching very slightly. 

This was fine.


	27. small steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big steps lead to smaller ones, or, Steve investigates the kissing rules. (Set after "reflected in someone like me".)

Steve wasn’t quite sure what the rules on kissing might be.

He supposed that was what happened when you jumped from enemies to maybe friends to necking in the kitchen to nothing and finally ending up with having sex on the couch, skipping over most of the usual in-between. 

So now Steve wasn’t sure. Was he allowed to just…kiss Loki? Casually? Or, not casually, but…for no reason other than the pleasure of kissing someone. 

He was worried if he asked Loki would laugh at him. Steve didn’t have a lot of experience in any of this, and he had a feeling the same wasn’t true of Loki.

And he _wanted_ to kiss Loki. He remembered…that one time, in the kitchen, had been…pretty intense. And the same when they’d ended up…well. But something slower, less frantic…Steve’s face felt a little warm and he tried to direct his thoughts elsewhere. 

Really, though, all he could do was try.  

So the next time he went to Loki, he hesitated a moment in the doorway. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, and immediately felt foolish, his face heating up so he was sure he must be bright red. Loki’s eyebrows rose a fraction and he looked faintly amused.

“Captain,” Loki drawled, “I have had your cock in my mouth.”

If he hadn’t been red before, he was now. “I know,” he said quickly. “But-” He fumbled, trying to figure out the best way to word what he was thinking. “It’s…different. We were…we kind of just jumped into it. And I’d like to…oh, heck.” Steve trailed off, made a face. Loki, however, looked thoughtful. 

“You may,” he said, after a moment. Steve blinked at him, and Loki added, “kiss me, I mean.” 

Steve stepped forward, suddenly feeling awkward. He hadn’t had any problem kissing Loki when they were…but like he’d said, this was different. He put one hand on Loki’s waist because it felt like it should go there, and the other one on the side of Loki’s neck, fingers curving around the back of his head. There were butterflies in his stomach, which felt silly. Loki was looking at him…oddly. Uncertain, Steve thought. Almost vulnerable. 

That, oddly enough, gave him the courage to lean in and kiss Loki, more than a peck but not too deep either, just something gentle and warm. He felt Loki relax a little, lean into him, maybe.

Steve pulled away slowly, though he left his hands where they were, searching Loki’s face. His eyes were half closed and the look on his face…the vulnerability was sharper, almost yearning. 

“You could do that again,” Loki murmured. “If you want.”

“You don’t mind?” Steve said, half joking, half asking for permission. Loki made a sound sort of like a laugh. 

“No. I do not mind.”


	28. and in that sleep of death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laying some fears - not to rest, but maybe down for a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm crossposting a few things from my Tumblr over here - hope nobody minds the sudden influx of short pieces! I figure if I stick them all in one place maybe it's better? 
> 
> Anyway, this was an old prompt - I don't even remember what exactly the prompt was. But going back through my fic tag, I liked some of the stuff going on here and thought it bore the more ~serious~ posting on AO3.

Steve woke up in the middle of the night to find the other half the bed empty. 

For a moment he almost panicked, but then he realized that it wasn’t _quite_ empty - Loki was sitting on the bed, back to Steve, unmoving. Which, at least he hadn’t…Steve wasn’t sure how that thought ended, but there were any number of awful scenarios it might cover, but it still didn’t look like everything was fine and dandy.

“Loki?” He said quietly, and saw his shoulders shudder, very slightly. Steve sat up, worry beginning to make his stomach tighten. “What’s going on?”

“Restless dreams,” Loki said. “It is no matter.” 

“It is a matter,” Steve said, pushing the blankets back. “Maybe it would help to talk about it.”

“Do you talk about your dreams, Captain?” Loki asked, and if the words were almost mocking his voice was gentle. Steve still wanted to wince. “What troubles me…I have earned my nightmares.” 

Steve frowned. “That’s not how it works.” 

“Isn’t it?” Loki’s voice sounded strange. Steve moved over to him and reached out to put his hands on Loki’s bare shoulders, letting his thumbs rub gently up and down on either side of his spine. “I have done such things. Is it not appropriate that I should be haunted by them?” 

“Loki…” Steve trailed off. Without knowing what Loki was thinking, he didn’t know how to fix it. “That’s not how it works,” he repeated. Loki was silent, though after a moment longer he seemed to slump. 

“Do you ever fear that I…will corrupt you? Perhaps already have?” Loki’s voice was quiet enough that Steve had to strain to hear it. “That what is rotten in me will overwhelm what is good in you?” 

Steve felt a pang. “No,” he said. “I don’t. Because you’re not rotten, for one, and for another, you couldn’t _corrupt_ me unless I wanted it, and then that would be my responsibility, not yours.” 

Loki laughed, but it sounded hollow. “I can be very persuasive.”

Steve took a breath to repeat that it didn’t matter, that Loki wasn’t a _bad seed,_ and stopped. “Fine,” he said. “Persuade me, then.” 

Loki twitched, his head turning toward Steve. “What?” 

“Persuade me to go dark,” Steve pressed. “Go ahead. Try your best. I’m listening.” 

Loki swallowed audibly. “Steve…”

“Go on,” Steve urged. “I want to hear your best arguments.”

“I don’t want-”

“ _There,”_ Steve said, giving Loki a little shake. “You don’t want. And that’s why it’s not going to happen. Because you’re not a bad person and you don’t want me to be.” 

For a moment, Steve thought Loki would argue, though he wasn’t sure how. Then Loki shuddered and went limp, folding forward. “You make it sound so simple,” he murmured. 

“It is,” Steve said, leaning forward and brushing Loki’s hair aside, pressing a kiss to each one of the bumps on his neck down to the top of his spine. “Honestly.”

“You can’t know that,” Loki said. His voice sounded small in a way that made Steve’s chest ache. 

“I do,” Steve said, kissing the curve of Loki’s bent back. “If you can’t trust yourself…trust me.”


	29. Live Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Bucky have a secret it'd be better no one knew. Unfortunately, few things stay secret for long among superheroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've talked a few times elsewhere in the verse about Loki and Bucky's sparring practice and how it would look a little like they were trying to kill each other to anyone watching. Someone on Tumblr prompted me to write something about it when I asked for Loki & Bucky prompts, and this was what happened. There's...I'm not sure I ended up totally happy with everything going on in this snippet, but I _did_ enjoy the chance to throw in a little of one of those peripheral relationships I don't get to explore as much in this verse - namely that between Bucky and Natasha. 
> 
> Also getting to write more Loki & Bucky interaction in general, though. I don't know when that got so important to me but I'm going to stop questioning it.

The sparring room on the 11th floor was almost never occupied. Loki suspected that had to do with him: he’d noticed that most of it was generally avoided even when he’d been (supposedly) confined to his quarters.

That suited him perfectly.

James grinned a little savagely and wiped a smear of blood off his lip. “Is that all?”

“I wouldn’t want to finish this too soon,” Loki said smoothly. He summoned his knife back from where it was embedded in the wall and shifted back as James lunged. Loki stabbed for his shoulder and he pivoted out of the way, driving his metal fist into Loki’s side and following by grabbing a handful of his hair. Loki tore free and went low to take James’ legs out from under him; he went down with an _oof_ but then kicked and rolled, bringing Loki down and ending up over him with one of Loki’s knives at his throat.

“Look at,” he started to say, but Loki bucked to throw James off balance, ignoring the hot, sharp pain as the knife cut in, and switched their positions again, slamming his hunting knife into the mat an inch from James’s ear.

“Shit,” James breathed, grimacing, and Loki grinned at him.

“A blade at my throat won’t necessarily stop me,” Loki said, pressing a hand over the relatively shallow slash, bleeding already slowing. James pushed himself up.

“What would?” He asked. Loki glanced at him, considering that question for a moment.

“More things than you’d think,” he said, finally. “Decapitation, certainly. Total exsanguination - a severed artery would do it, most like, if you could cut deep enough quickly enough. I couldn’t live without a heart, or without lungs; severe damage to either that I could not heal quickly enough…” He shrugged.

“Huh.” James looked pensive. “Good to know, I guess.” The prickle of wariness Loki thought was smaller than he expected. He wondered if that was a sign of trust. After a moment’s silence James rolled his shoulder. “Pulled a little hard, there. Thought you were going to pop something out.”

“Not this time,” Loki said lightly. James’s lips twitched, and he flipped Loki back his knife.

“Go again?” He said. “Unarmed, this time.”

“Not too tired?” Loki asked innocently. James made a face at him, and Loki banished both knives. “Unarmed, then.”

They went for each other again.

Loki had been dubious when James had first proposed the idea, but he had softened to it. It was good for them both, he thought, to have something to do - some means of expelling the violence that lived in each of their hearts.

It might be dangerous - it might even be reckless. James had already broken one of his wrists, and Loki had ended up with a blade in his leg, praying Steve wouldn’t notice the slight limp. But they were durable. And it wasn’t as though there was anyone else. It wasn’t even as though Loki let go of all of his control. Just enough to ease the occasional burning need for blood. And it helped. It was _good._

As long as nobody knew about it.

Loki ought to have known better. Secrets never stayed secret for long.

“What the- get off of him!”

It could be worse, Loki thought dryly. They could be using steel. One of them could be currently bleeding. As it was, however, when he’d just managed to pin James to a wall with a hand around his throat seemed like a bad enough time for Romanov to walk in.

He let go and stepped back. James coughed, though he’d gone stiff as well; his eyes flicked to Romanov and then to Loki but he said nothing. Romanov looked like she wished she had a gun. “Further back,” she said after a moment. Loki felt his expression tighten but took another step back. Tried to remind himself that he was, after all, the stronger party between the two of them, and had had the upper hand. It was not that she just assumed because of who he was that necessarily he must be _up to no good._ Perfectly reasonable thing to think, regardless. About anyone.

His thoughts were not convincing.

“I’m fine,” James said finally, tonelessly. “I don’t need help.”

Romanov’s eyes flicked to him. “Yeah, you looked like you were doing fine.”

James’ hackles went up and he bristled. “Don’t patronize me.”

“How about an explanation?” Romanov’s eyes were back on Loki, wary, guarded. Loki smoothed his expression and raised his eyebrows.

“I daresay you already have one for yourself. Perhaps you should share that, first?”

James’s _don’t do that_ glance in his direction was so much like Steve’s it was uncanny. Though based on what Loki had heard about Steve’s youth, perhaps Steve had learned it from James. Romanov’s eyes narrowed.

“I already know you can talk in circles. So how about an answer or I’ll call and find out what Steve thinks about this?”

Loki wondered briefly what Steve _would_ think and was tempted to hold his ground. That she had not already summoned him seemed like she did not want to, probably for the same reasons he and James had decided Steve did not need to know. Perhaps he could call her bluff. James, though, made a strangled noise. “No,” he said harshly. “Don’t.”

“Why not,” Romanov said, not looking away from Loki.

James’s jaw worked. “Why’s it any of your business,” he said.

“I don’t actually want you dead,” Romanov said. There was something there, Loki thought, some history, perhaps. He had not known anything about that, and made a note to ask James later. Romanov was still largely mysterious to him, and he had never liked mysteries that he couldn’t solve.

“We were _sparring,_ ” James said, after another glance at Loki like he was expecting _him_ to speak. When Romanov would likely not believe a word out of his mouth. “That’s all.”

Romanov’s eyes narrowed. “That’s all,” she said. “Then why don’t you want Steve to know?”

Loki barked a laugh. “Is that not obvious?”

“Say it isn’t.”

“I should think _your_ reaction reason enough.” Loki could feel himself winding tight again, all the benefit of this entire exercise coming undone. “Since Barnes is so _very_ vulnerable.”

“Shut up, Loki,” James said. “You’re not helping.”

Romanov looked back and forth between them. “I haven’t heard an explanation.”

James’s face was locked down, expressionless. He stared at Romanov for a long moment and then said, “Loki, tip your head back. It’s still there, right?”

Loki glanced sharply at James, who did not look back at him. He knew what James was referring to, but he was hardly keen to give that away to Romanov, standing there, staring at him, _judging_ him.

“What’s still there,” she asked, a line etched between her eyebrows. Loki gritted his teeth and tipped his head slightly back, enough to show the fading but still red line where James had cut him earlier. Not serious, but it was certainly dramatic. Romanov blinked. She glanced at James.

“That’s why,” he said. He was trying very hard to look relaxed, but falling slightly short of it, his shoulders hunched. And darker, something ugly in his voice, “still think I need saving?”

“I never thought you needed saving,” Romanov said. She studied both of them, then looked at James. “You know you’re weaker than he is. And more fragile. He could kill you by accident.”

_I am right here,_ Loki was tempted to say. He didn’t.

“Yeah, I know,” James said flatly. “Already almost did, once. I’m not _stupid._ ”

“No,” Romanov said, “but you are self-destructive and prone to erratic behavior.” James twitched, but barely.

“I’m not trying to die,” he said bluntly.

Romanov turned, then, and looked at him. Loki let his eyebrows twitch up. “No expressions of concern for my well being, Lady Romanov?”

“No,” she said. “I know what you can do. Though I do wonder what you think happens if something goes wrong in these little sessions. Something you can’t fix. What do you do then?”

“We shall face that eventuality if it comes to it,” Loki said evenly.

“It’d kill Steve and you know it,” Romanov said, implacable. “And if you care about Barnes at all-” Loki felt his shoulders tense.

“I know it.”

“And that’s a risk you’re willing to take.”

Loki felt his lip trying to curl. “I’ve been using blades longer than the two of your lifespans put together. Give me _some_ credit for control.”

“You can’t control everything.” Her voice was ruthless, picking away at Loki’s own uncertainties that he kept at a distance. “Something can always go wrong. Cut a little too deep, someone twitches at the exact wrong time-”

“Back off,” James said, stepping forward, his voice almost a growl. Romanov’s eyes cut to him, as did Loki’s, surprised. “What, scaring me didn’t work so now you’re trying to scare _him?_ It’s none of your business, _Vdova._ ” Loki heard the shift in both tone and language on the last word. By the flicker near her left eye, Romanov didn’t mistake the intent. James’ jaw shifted. “We all do what we have to.”

Romanov looked back and forth between them, an odd expression on her face. Loki settled back on his heels, waiting. “Yeah,” she said finally, flatly. “I guess we do.” She looked at Loki when she said, “you’re both idiots. But I’ll keep your secret. For now.”

“What’s the condition,” James said.

“No condition,” Romanov said. “I just hope I don’t regret it.” They both watched her exit.

“Well,” Loki said quietly. “Wasn’t that fun.”

James grimaced at nothing. “Yeah. Fun.” He rolled his left shoulder back until Loki heard it crack. “That’s definitely one word for it.” He gave Loki a sidelong look. “You’re not going to quit because you’re scared of hurting me, are you?”

He ought to. It would be the responsible thing to do. The _right_ thing. Romanov was right, much as he resented it - there was only so much he could do to ensure that James would not be too sorely wounded. Or even that he would not - it would be difficult to explain a serious stab wound to Steve even if it was not life threatening.

Loki flashed his teeth. “Of course not. You’ll just have to go on losing to me.”

James relaxed, visibly. “Cocky,” he said, and Loki sketched a bow, lighter than he felt. They both needed this, he told himself. Maybe James even more than him, who had known nothing but violence punctuated by oblivion for decades out of his life.

And at the back of his mind lurked the thought that someday he might be in need of friends who knew how to fight against him, and not just with. He wanted James to have that defense, however slight.


	30. wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Steve can't sleep, he goes running.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon on Tumblr asked for some aftermath of Steve's trauma in "Collapse the Light Into Earth" and his trying to cope with it (and having to talk with other people about it). This was the result, set sometime after that fic takes place.

Steve gave up three hours before dawn and rolled out of bed. He got dressed quickly and silently, tied up his shoes, and went for a run.

Midway through his second circuit around Central Park, he noticed a new figure on one of the benches, sitting with long legs stretched out into the path. Steve slowed.

He’d thought he’d slipped out quietly enough to avoid disturbing Loki. Apparently not.

“Trouble sleeping?” Loki’s voice was smooth and mild. Steve fought the urge to grimace.

“Just getting an early start.”

“Before dawn is _very_ early, even for you.” Loki unfolded from the bench and strolled over to him. “I thought I would find you here. You always run when you are…distressed. One could make something of that, if one tried.”

Steve met Loki’s eyes squarely. “I go for runs all the time.” Loki’s lips quirked wryly, and Steve added, “you know what I mean. It’s just part of my routine.”

“And the fact that your doctor said you should not resume normal activity for another two weeks yet?”

“She doesn’t know how fast I heal,” Steve shot back, even though there was an ache in his thigh that was only going to get worse. He might end up with a cramp, if he wasn’t careful. Still. He wasn’t going to make a fuss and he _wasn’t_ going to be helpless.

Loki studied him and Steve braced to argue, but then he just hummed. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll join you, then. I could use the exercise.”

Steve blinked. “Okay,” he said slowly. “You’re welcome, of course, but…”

“Who am I to question anyone’s methods of coping?” Loki asked, a little too lightly, but Steve did not call him on it. “Come, my Captain. I will follow.”

Loki kept pace with him with seeming ease, and while for the first while Steve kept glancing at him sideways, waiting for…something, before long he settled back into his rhythm and just…ran. Until his lungs burned and his heart pounded just a little too loud, and then, finally, he slowed to a walk, trying not to be obvious about favoring his leg.

“Better?” Loki asked quietly.

“Than what,” Steve said before he could stop himself, and almost apologized, but Loki huffed a soft laugh.

“Mm. Fair.” Loki glanced at him. “Come, sit on the grass. Your leg is aching, isn’t it?”

Steve shrugged. “It isn’t that bad.” Loki just looked at him, and Steve sighed. “All right.”

He sat down on a grassy hill and let Loki press one hand to his thigh and the other to his hip. The pain eased almost immediately and Steve let out a breath he’d forgotten he was holding. Loki drew away slowly and sat down next to him, looking east across the park.

“Did you sleep at all?” He asked, after a few moments of silence.

“Some,” Steve hedged. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. He _had_ fallen asleep - it had just been into dreams of doctors who all looked like Red Skull poking and prodding at him. He heard Loki sigh, so probably his half-truth was audible somehow. “You don’t need to worry about me,” Steve said. “It’ll get better.”

“I should have you give me a gold piece every time you say that,” Loki said, still looking out at the horizon. “ _You don’t need to worry about me._ Of course I do not _need_ to. It is hardly about _need._ ”

“Loki…” Steve didn’t know how to say this. “I just don’t want you to…forget to look after yourself.”

“You should take your own advice, Captain.” Loki turned his head and looked at Steve. “Or will you try to tell me that this _is_ looking after yourself?”

“It’s…” Steve worked his jaw back and forth. “It’s what I need to do. Clears my head.”

“Clears your head of what?” Loki asked. His voice was gentle, quiet. Steve twitched one shoulder.

“Just - things. You know.” Steve bit his lip briefly and turned to look back at Loki. “Loki, _you_ just…what you went through, when I was - gone…” 

“Heals every time I touch you and feel your warmth, your heartbeat, your breath,” Loki cut in. “And besides - is not the subject at hand right now.”

“It would never be the subject at hand if you could help it,” Steve said. Loki’s eyebrows twitched up.

“And you are in such haste to discuss _your_ hurts, Steve.” He reached out and ran his fingers lightly over Steve’s cheek. “Please. I would listen, if you would speak.”

Steve turned his head, pulling away from Loki’s touch. _It wasn’t that bad,_ the words on the tip of his tongue. _So they hurt me some. Lots of people’ve had worse._ He licked his lips. “They left me in a room full of freezing water,” he said. “I don’t know why. No reason, maybe. Just to see what I’d do, or - and I panicked. It wasn’t even deep enough to drown in and I just…”

Loki shifted in toward him but said nothing, only a sort of “hmm,” noise. Steve’s shoulders hunched. “I wasn’t a person to them. Not really. I was - a lab rat. And I couldn’t, couldn’t keep them from getting what they wanted.”

“You blame yourself for that?” Loki asked. “Would you blame me for what knowledge Victor claimed from my unwilling body?”

Steve jerked, shook his head. “No,” he said quickly. “Of course not. But-”

“And how is this different?” Loki interrupted.

“It isn’t just about blame,” Steve said after a moment. “It’s - it feels _dirty._ Makes _me_ feel dirty. That HYDRA has - could use me in any way.”

“I know.”

“It was like being - small again,” Steve said, words cascading out of him now, the burn in his lungs intensifying. “Being that helpless. Unable to stop _anything._ I always hated feeling that powerless, more than anything, more than the being sick and in pain, seeing things happen and knowing I couldn’t do a damn _thing._ And there was Rumlow, lurking like a vulture just to _watch,_ saying, saying foul _bullshit_ about you and Bucky and _us._ Like he had any right - but he knew I couldn’t touch him.” Steve sucked in a breath, fighting the iron bands clamping tight around his lungs.

Loki’s hand pressed between his shoulder blades and Steve’s lungs filled the rest of the way. “Steve,” Loki said quietly, but then stopped, like he did not know what else to say. Steve stared at his hands.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I just dream sometimes. That’s all. It’ll fade.”

“Liar,” Loki said, but his voice was gentle. “Or - not about the fading. It _will_ fade. But dreams have teeth. Yours, I think, bite deep.”

Steve pressed his lips together, but it seemed like an apt image. Nightmares shaking him around like a terrier worrying a rat. Which made him the rat, Steve supposed.

Loki inhaled slowly and let it out equally slowly. For a moment Steve thought he was just taking the time to think, but when he glanced sideways realized that he was trying to control anger. He thought of what Thor had said to him about the damage Loki and Bucky had done. _They were a storm tearing HYDRA’s thorns up at the root._ Thought of Loki’s seeming fear that Steve would condemn him for that.

“I shouldn’t,” Steve said, looking at his hands. “But I’m…glad. What you did to them. Fair or not, I’m glad they’re dead.”

Loki glanced at him, one eyebrow lifting. “Are you trying to comfort _me,_ Captain?”

“Both of us shouldn’t have to be miserable,” Steve said, trying to smile. Loki laughed near soundlessly and pulled Steve toward him, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“A while ago,” Steve said at length. “After…everything with Sin. You did something so I could sleep without dreaming.”

“I did,” Loki said.

“Could you. Would you be willing to do that again? Just for a night, or maybe two.”

Loki seemed almost relieved. “Yes,” he said promptly. “Of course I would be willing.” There was a hint of reproach in his voice when he added, “you might have asked before.”

Steve didn’t look at him. “I know.”

“Ah,” Loki said. “Yes. But you do not want to be helpless. To place yourself under someone else’s control again, however slight.”

“It isn’t that I don’t trust you,” Steve said quickly. “I do. Just-”

“You do not need to explain to me.” Loki’s faint smile in the gradually creeping light of dawn was melancholy, but it looked genuine. “Nor need you apologize.”

Steve nodded, looking down and closing his eyes.

“Next time you need to go for a run,” Loki said after a long silence, “tell me. You needn’t go alone.”

Steve smiled faintly. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“Come home,” Loki said, unfolding slowly and extending a hand. Steve took it and pulled himself to his feet, and Loki brought Steve’s hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle once.

“Yeah,” Steve said, with a weak and fragile smile. “Home.”


	31. I've murdered half the town, left you love notes on their headstones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki does not take people meddling with what is his lightly. Perhaps it is time he made an example of what happens to people who go after Steve Rogers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for Loki killing someone, mentioning how they appreciated his ruthlessness. I chose to go back in time in this verse and write out something I'd alluded to before - Loki's reaction to Steve's almost getting killed in "the fog won't lift in your town". His rather bloody reaction. 
> 
> Warning this chapter for graphic violence.

Loki sat still for a long time after he sent the Captain away, staring at nothing.

_Next time,_ he had said. _Next time, just tell me to stop,_ as though he expected there would be such a thing. And _I wasn’t expecting to see you again,_ sounding as though the idea did not please him. 

Small things. Scraps. He was a fool, to make anything out of them. 

Loki dragged his thoughts away, turning them in another direction; one rather more palatable at the moment. The matter that had brought them here. Not Rogers’ yearning towards martyrdom but rather the one who had enabled it. 

Loki had by and large ignored the petty enemies that engaged the Captain and his companions. They were beneath his notice: irrelevant and frequently irritating. But he did not appreciate having his claim trifled with. Perhaps it was time he made that clear. 

Besides, such clumsy, ugly use of magecraft deserved to be punished.

He was weary - there hadn’t been time to do anything but pull the spell out of the Captain and absorb it himself, and that had been…unpleasant. But he had strength enough to see to this before retreating to rest. 

Standing and cracking his neck to the side, Loki rolled his shoulders back and reached for his magic. He could still feel the remnants of the spell, the residue like oil. This fledgling mage had been careless. Left a trail he could follow. 

Loki half smiled, and did. 

* * *

The mage was alone when Loki found him. Shaving, smiling a little at himself in the mirror. He did not even look bruised despite the defeat of his companions - slipped away ahead of them, perhaps secure in the thought that he had claimed the life of Midgard’s Captain. 

Anger flashed hot in Loki’s chest and he moved, stepping out of the shadows. The mage dropped his razor and whirled, hands raised. Loki smiled coldly at him. 

“Feel free to try to run,” he said. “It might make this more entertaining for me.” 

Loki saw the flash of fear. The mage called on his magic; Loki let him so that he could cut through the working, dissolving it before it ever materialized. His eyes widened. Loki smiled, a flash of bared teeth, and lunged. 

His fingers wrapped around the mage’s throat, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the wall. His hands scrabbled at Loki’s as he choked. 

“You should not have touched Captain America,” Loki said, and he could hear the low thrum of rage in his own voice. Angrier even than he had realized. “That was a _mistake.”_

His fingers tightened. The mage’s eyes bulged. 

Loki pulled his hand away and let him fall. He dropped onto his knees, coughing. “I didn’t - I didn’t know, I’m sorry-”

Groveling. Loki sneered. “No, you are not. You just want to get away with your life.” He barked a laugh. “You are already dead. But I think your death can serve a greater purpose.” 

“A greater-”

Loki grabbed him by the collar and hauled him to his feet, then pulled them both through space. He was not alone after all: the mage had scuttled off to a nest of his kind, and it was to the center of that nest that Loki took them. Several people lurched to their feet when they appeared. The mage was making small, pathetic whimpering sounds, not quite gibbering. 

“I do not know who you are or what master you serve,” Loki said, raising his voice to project across the room. “And I do not care. I am here to ensure that you know how things are.” His heart was pounding in his ears. “You - all of you, all of you petty human _rats_  - will _stay out of my way.”_

Someone shot at him. Loki let it ping off a shield without looking to see who it was. 

“The Avengers are mine. I have laid claim to their fate and you will not interfere.” He dragged the mage to his feet and shook him. “If you should test that…if you should _push_ me…

“Watch and know what will happen.”

He put his hands on either side of the mage’s head and spoke three runes.

The mage screamed, and went on screaming until the blood drowned it out. Loki let him writhe for a half a minute before twisting and wrenching upward. The sound was awful and he let his magic amplify it so it carried.

The mage’s headless body dropped to the ground. Loki let the head fall a moment later.

His heart was racing, a red haze at the corners of his vision that murmured _not enough. It’s not enough._ He could barely hear the shouting, screaming, shooting. 

_Kill them all._

Steve’s voice swam into his head. _I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed the worst._

The red haze cleared. Slightly. 

“Consider yourselves warned,” Loki said, his voice clipped, and stepped out of the world.


	32. In all my dreams before my helpless sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dreams are getting worse, and Loki is coping by avoiding them altogether. It turns out he isn't the only one awake in the middle of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for a prompt with Pietro calming Loki down after a Thanos-dream, because Pietro and Loki's frienemyship (emphasis on the 'purposeless animosity') is an excellent thing to behold. 
> 
> Takes place after "to face unafraid the plans that we've made".

The dreams had gotten worse.

He was less certain now that they were dreams, either: tense, anxious nightmares where he huddled in the dark, trembling at the feeling of some terrible gaze seeking him. _And after, when I find you, when there are no boltholes left…_

The dread was so thick it tasted like blood. He remembered all too keenly the feeling of being shoved down in his own mind and waking with a blank spot in his memory, only the damage he had left to testify to what he’d done while Thanos used him. _Put you on like a glove,_ Stark’s words. Accurate in a way that left him sick to think of.

He should not have used magic to push Steve back into sleep when he woke, but he had needed, just for a moment, to get away. Suddenly unable to breathe, suddenly terrified that he would find his hands going for Steve’s throat, outside of his control.

Loki looked down at his hands. Still shaking. His eyes fixed on the simple silver ring on his left.

_You should run,_ the fear whispered. _Run far away, before Thanos claims you again, this time completely._

He heard a sound and jumped, whirling. His magic surged to answer his anxiety, but it was only the witch’s brother, staring at him looking rumpled and annoyed. Loki schooled his expression to impassivity. “What are you doing awake?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Maximoff said curtly.

“You could,” Loki said flatly. Maximoff’s eyes narrowed.

“My sister may think you are a friend. I am not so sure.”

Loki looked out the window and closed his hands into fists, hoping that would stop their shaking. “That likely makes you less a fool than her.”

Maximoff moved in a flash to block his view, staring up at him belligerently. “You will not insult my sister in front of me,” he said. Loki scoffed under his breath and started to turn away. He’d find elsewhere to settle his humming nerves. “We are not finished,” Maximoff said, and grabbed Loki’s arm.

He yanked free and pivoted, hand lashing out at Maximoff’s throat, and just managed to pull the action in time before he might have crushed his windpipe. For just a moment, the witch’s brother’s eyes widened. Holding still, they could both see his hand trembling.

Loki jerked away and stepped back. His heart was pounding a little too hard. “Never touch me without my permission,” he said harshly. “And certainly do not _grab_ me. Wanda would be dreadfully upset if you were hurt.”

Maximoff’s expression of anger sharpened. “Are you threatening me?”

“No,” Loki said. “Offering you a warning.” He turned his back.

“Your hands were shaking,” Maximoff said suddenly. Loki fell still and said nothing. “Why are you out here?”

Loki bit the inside of his cheek. “I do not see that that is any of your business.”

“Does it make it more or less my business that your memories infected my sister’s nightmares for days?” Maximoff demanded. Loki tried not to flinch even as he felt a surge of rage.

“You may not want to remind me of that incident just now,” he snapped. Maximoff didn’t flinch.

“They all talk about this great danger hanging over all our heads,” he said. “It seems to have something to do with you. Wanda will only say a little. It seems this danger is something _you_ brought, like the scepter.”

_Yes. No. You drew it to yourselves when you meddled in matters greater than your ken._ Loki felt himself coil tight. “Whatever the witchling said to you was not hers to share.”

Maximoff took a step toward him and Loki tensed further. “From what I understand it endangers all of us.”

Magic sparked at Loki’s fingertips. “You understand nothing.”

“I understand that this Thanos-”

“ _Do not say his name,_ ” Loki cried, the bubbling panic boiling over. He could almost feel that awful gaze pinning him, magic pinning him like an insect as Thanos shredded his mind apart, _there is nowhere you can hide from me, no secrets you can keep, everything you are is mine, you think you know pain you will yearn for something so sweet-_

“Loki. _Loki._ ” Someone swore loudly. He couldn’t inhale properly and he felt distant from his own body, untethered. None of this was real.

“Breathe,” said someone suddenly, far away. “Into your stomach.” Loki tried but it stopped halfway through. Tried again. Again. Someone was muttering under their breath and Loki tried to focus on that, on the hard floor underneath him, the smell of damp forest wafting through the open window.

He opened his eyes. Maximoff stared down at him.

“I am going to get some water,” he said abruptly, and turned on his heel. Loki let his head fall back against the wall, exhausted and swallowing the urge to weep. _Stupid. Foolish. Weak._

Maximoff returned and shoved the water at him. Loki took it after a moment and drank the whole thing.

“Thank you,” he said tightly, after a long silence during which Maximoff continued to stare at him. Loki did not think he could have tolerated seeing pity there, but his expression was tight and unreadable.

“Why is it dangerous to say his name,” the witch’s brother asked. Loki avoided his gaze.

“Names have power,” he said flatly. “They may draw attention. We are not…none of you are ready for his.” Silence, again. Loki wanted to push himself up, to _leave,_ but he didn’t quite trust his legs yet. “Was there something else,” he said eventually. It sounded less harsh than he wanted it to.

“No,” Maximoff said. “Nothing else.” He turned his back. “You should not hide out here alone. It is stupid.”

Loki’s hackles rose. “I am not _hiding._ ”

“Then why not turn to Rogers with your fears,” Maximoff said bluntly. “He is there. It is stupid to say nothing and force others to deal with your troubles.”

Loki’s jaw tightened. “I did not _force_ you to deal with anything. You were free to leave. And you were the one who pressed in the first place-”

“My sister, for whatever reason, values your teaching,” Maximoff interrupted. “It was for her I intervened.”

“And what are _you_ hiding from, Pietro Maximoff,” Loki snapped, shame prickling down his spine. “Why do _you_ not seek your _sister’s_ comfort? What haunts you that you cannot share?”

Maximoff went very still, not even twitching. “You do not know me,” he said finally, the words spilling from his lips in a rush as though he could not get them out fast enough. “You do not know my sister. And I owe you _nothing._ ”

He was gone in a flash, before Loki could say _nothing but your life._ He sat alone, pressing his forehead into his knees, until he felt steady enough to stand. Looking down at his left hand, he ran his thumb idly over the vibranium band.

Loki made his way back to the rooms he shared with Steve and slipped back into the bedroom, crawling under the covers. He pulled Steve against him and inhaled the smell of his hair.

“Steve?” He said quietly. “Can I…I want to talk to you.”

Maximoff’s words might have been harsh, but maybe he wasn’t wrong.


	33. I have seen what the darkness does

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the debacle with the Accords, Wanda asks Loki to go for a walk with her. She has some ulterior motives for doing so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I always down for more Wanda and Loki interaction/friendship? You bet I am. And "don't care if heaven won't take me back" set them up on a new level, and left them with some new things to talk about. This fic is set after that one. Someone prompted me for "Wanda inviting Loki somewhere" and I kind of went and swerved off in my own direction with the prompt. Like I do.

Loki had transitioned some time ago from reading to staring blankly out the window. He could feel Steve glancing at him every so often, but he had not said anything so far. Loki suspected he was occupied in his own thoughts.

Thus far, nothing much had come of Ross’s revelation. Thus far, the man had decided not to announce that his declared prisoner was no longer any such thing. Thus far, there had been a kind of calm that Loki suspected had less to do with _calm_ than general exhaustion. Loki did not expect for it to last, but then he never did.

However, he was also having…difficulty seeing how he could move to protect those that needed protecting.

And Loki did not appreciate feeling helpless.

Someone knocked on the door and Steve glanced at him once again before standing up. “I’ll get it.”

“Hmm-mm,” Loki said, though he watched Steve out of the corner of his eye until he moved out of sight, listening to the door opening.

“Hello, Steve,” Wanda said. “How are you doing?”

“Can’t complain,” Steve said. Loki closed his book, though he left it in his lap, not yet rising. “You?”

“I’m all right.” She cleared her throat. “I was actually…looking for Loki.”

“Oh! Well, he’s here, come in…”

If he were Steve, Loki thought vaguely, he might have been offended to have his friend visit only to seek someone else. Though - _whatever you think, I consider you my friend._

He stood slowly, leaving the book on the chair and turning to see Wanda stepping inside, giving Steve a little smile before she looked over at him. He raised his eyebrows a hair. “This is unexpected.”

Wanda’s smile faded, expression turning a little uncertain. “Is it a bad time?”

“Hardly,” Loki said. “Steve can tell you I’ve been appallingly idle.”

“It’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Steve protested.

“Then-” she huffed out a breath like she was trying to brace herself for something. Loki tensed, trying to brace himself for some variety of disaster, but what she said was, “would you like to go for a walk with me?”

Loki blinked. “A walk where? Is your brother otherwise occupied?”

Wanda shook her head. “No, and just…a walk. Not anywhere in particular. I just want to get outside.”

Loki’s thoughts flashed to the cages that had held them. He knew how that was, to feel the walls closing in. It still seemed…peculiar. He glanced at Steve, who raised his eyebrows, looking - for some reason - amused.

“I suppose,” he said slowly. He caught another twitch of Steve’s eyebrows, and added, “Yes, I will join you.”

The quick flash of relief did not escape him, and Loki was almost ashamed of his hesitation. She hesitated again, however, and added, “now?”

Loki shrugged. “As you will.” He glanced at Steve, belatedly, who gave him a slightly crooked smile.

“I’m not going to pine if you leave for a couple of hours.”

“Not even a little?” Loki said lightly, but he leaned over and kissed Steve lightly on the corner of the mouth before turning to Wanda. “Very well. Shall we?”

* * *

Loki only lasted a few minutes before casting a working to shield himself from the moist heat. Glancing at Wanda, who looked a bit as though she was wilting as well, he extended the boundaries of the working to reach her. She looked up at him in surprise.

“Thank you,” she said after a moment, with a sheepish smile. “I’m not used to the heat. I’ve never been in a jungle before.”

“I haven’t been in this one.”

“Others?” Wanda asked, her ears pricking up. “On other worlds?”

“And on Midgard.” Loki eyed her out of the corner of his eye. “Why did you ask me to join you, Ms. Maximoff?”

“I wanted to go for a walk,” Wanda said, her ears flushing slightly. “I thought maybe you…” She trailed off. _Ah,_ Loki thought.

“You thought I might be feeling the walls a little close as well,” he said, carefully neutral. Wanda looked down.

“I don’t want to assume,” she said. “And I would’ve asked anyway - it’s not _just_ because of that.” She looked down. Loki could almost see her picking over her words. “I wake up in the middle of the night trying to pull off a collar that isn’t there.”

Loki did not quite suck in a breath. _Don’t tell me this,_ he thought wildly. _It is a weakness I’ll only use against you._ He could. He knew how he would.  It surprised him a little when he realized that he didn’t want to. “I was told once that one can train oneself to control one’s dreams. I never learned the way of it, but it is…possible. It might let you pull the fangs from your nightmares.”

Wanda chewed on the inside of her cheek, her eyes dark. “What they used on you. You said it was - Doom’s technology. You meant Victor von Doom, right?”

Loki wondered when that name would stop making his stomach knot and his blood chill. “Yes.”

“He…used it on you before?”

_Metal and hands and pain that blurred together until he could not remember what it was like not to feel it._ “I would rather not discuss it,” Loki said tightly. He could feel the sympathy in the way Wanda looked at him and it made him feel nauseous. When she said nothing, he added, “yes. On two separate occasions he held me captive for his - purposes. Stark stole the technology he used to inhibit my magic and adapted it. Keeping it in reserve, I imagine, for an occasion such as this.” He shrugged one shoulder. “You must have…seen some of this.”

The comment was meant to sting, and by her wince it did. “I don’t understand everything I see. I thought-” She chewed her lip again. “Some of it was enough like my memories to be confusing.”

The thought crossed Loki’s mind that von Strucker had died too quickly. “It seems humans’ favorite method of understanding what they don’t know is to put knives to it,” he said flatly. Wanda’s shoulders hunched and she shivered; Loki looked away guiltily. “My apologies. I may not be the person to have this conversation with.”

“There aren’t a lot of other people I could,” Wanda said. “Steve, maybe? It’d hurt Pietro too much. If Natasha were here…but she’s not, and that’s different anyway.”

“I am not very good at comforting,” Loki said. Wanda looked at him sidelong.

“I think you’re better than you give yourself credit for. But that’s not what I’m asking. I’m not even really _asking_ anything. It just helps, to know someone understands.”

Loki studied her for a long moment. “I suppose it does.”

Wanda smiled faintly, though it seemed more to herself than anything. Still, she reached out and took his arm, seemingly utterly unselfconscious. “I’m trying to learn all the birds that live here,” she said. “One of the Dora Milaje - Aneka - is teaching me. Or trying. I’m not very good at it.” She was quiet for just a moment. “When I can’t sleep I go over the names in my head.”

“Witchling,” Loki said quietly.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Wanda interrupted. “Sometimes just saying it out loud makes me feel less like I’m going insane. They kept saying that, the guards. _Crazy girl._ I’m not.”

This time Loki did not try to say anything. Wanda’s expression set.

“No one is going to put me in a cage again,” she said, and if her voice was soft he could hear the deep well of power underneath. “ _Never again._ ”

“No,” Loki said after a pause. “They will not.”

Wanda looked up at him in apparent surprise, and then with a very, very small smile. “Thank you,” she said. Loki looked away.

“For what?”

She shook her head, then whistled, a four note piping pattern. A moment later the sound came back. Wanda beamed, delight lighting up her face.

Perhaps this was the reminder he’d needed. They were not so helpless. And curious as it was, however little he understood it, he was not alone.


	34. prince of cats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's someone who got left behind in all the confusion. 
> 
> Loki goes back to retrieve his first friend from the New York apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A concerned reader on Tumblr asked what happened to Váli in all of the Civil War chaos. I had actually been meaning to write this fic, or one like it, for a while - and the question gave me an excuse to finally do it. 
> 
> Loki's fur baby is very important. And if you're left with questions - well. Those just might get answered later. :D

He waited maybe six hours before slipping away, stomach already in knots. How long had it been? He had left out food for what he had expected to be a short journey to London and back, and since then-

Everything had happened so _quickly._

Even as he dressed quietly, tucking his knives where he could reach them without magic, there was a voice at the back of his mind that whispered _foolish, reckless, you are as good as walking into a trap. They might have laid anything, expecting you to come back. Something to cripple you for good, this time._  A shiver crawled down his spine, the memory of his magic bound, electricity crackling through his body, still too close.

But he had a responsibility. He was not going to _abandon_ Váli, helpless and confused, at the mercy of whoever might be the first to penetrate his wards. 

Loki took a deep breath to calm himself, wondered again if he ought to tell Steve where he was going, and pushed the thought away, stepping out between worlds. The path to their old apartment was well worn and solid, but he paused a moment before twisting back out, one hand on his hidden knives, ready for anything. 

The apartment was dark, and quiet. Already it had the emptiness of a place abandoned, and Loki felt a wave of regret that almost ached. They had been making something, here. For the first time since Jotunheim, he had begun to feel that he had a _home._

Steve was his home, Loki reminded himself. They were together and that was enough. More than he expected, or deserved. 

The quiet made his stomach clench tighter, though. _How long?_

He clicked his tongue, padding cautiously forward, wary of traps. A loud meow came from down the hall and Loki closed his eyes, breath whooshing out of his lungs. 

“My apologies,” he said, crouching down as Váli came slinking out of the dark. His eyes seemed to accuse, but when Loki extended a hand he pushed his head into it, and kept moving until he could put both his paws on Loki’s knees. Loki felt himself smile, very slightly. “I do hope you can forgive me, though I am certain you will see me pay for my trespasses.”

Váli meowed loudly again. “You need food,” Loki said, moving to stand, but Váli claws unsheathed and dug in. He paused before lifting him, but Váli curled close - not purring, but seemingly anxious, like he thought Loki might disappear again. 

He walked briskly into the kitchen and pulled out the dry food only to stop dead as he caught sight of Váli’s food and water bowl. Both were about half full. 

The hair on the back of Loki’s neck stood up and he turned sharply, tensing, though he didn’t let go of Váli just yet. Someone had been here. Someone had been here, fed Váli , and left. 

Only people who already knew where this apartment was should be able to find it, and that was a short list, the entirety of them Avengers. None of the others in Wakanda could have come here. 

_Who,_ Loki thought, his eyes searching the corners of the apartment with new urgency. _Is Banner back?_ The android had never come here, though perhaps he had ferreted out the location. Rhodes seemed unlikely. That left Stark and Romanov. 

Váli mewed and squirmed. Picking up on his mood. 

Stark or Romanov. The latter had changed her mind and then disappeared. The former…

Either might have left eyes watching. Alerts to be triggered by visitors in case anyone was _foolish_ enough to return, and if they’d known Váli was here they might guess that he would. 

Known Váli was here, and fed him but not taken him away. Bait? Or consideration of the fact that Loki would not take the loss of his earliest friend lightly? 

“We need to leave,” Loki said to Váli. “I have tarried too long already.” He pushed speculation out of his mind, cast one last look around the apartment, and left. 

Váli’s claws dug into his arms and he yowled as they stepped into the void, and when they came out in Wakanda all his fur was standing on end. But they stood on the balcony of his and Steve’s rooms. Safe. Or as safe as they ever would be. 

The door opened behind him and Loki turned to see Steve standing with his arms crossed and an expression of displeasure plain on his face - though it softened when he saw Váli. 

“You scared me,” he said. “I came back and you were - gone. You went back?”

“I could hardly leave him there alone,” Loki said. “He is mine. Or, as he probably thinks of it, I am his.” He lifted his chin. “I knew it was a risk.”

“It was,” Steve agreed, but he didn’t sound particularly angry. He walked over and reached out to scratch behind Váli’s ears, and of course _then_ he started purring. Apparently he would not hold his abandonment against _Steve._  “I was worried he’d…but he looks fine. Healthy.” 

Loki hesitated. He wondered if he should tell Steve about what he’d found. The possibility that someone was watching their apartment, that one of his…former teammates might have laid snares to catch either one of them. 

The possibility that someone had come to be certain that one small cat stayed safe and did not starve. 

“He is hardy,” Loki said. “And clever. But perhaps we should give him something special, to make up for his trouble.” 

Váli’s purr vibrated against his chest. Steve leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. 

“I’m glad he’s safe too,” he said, which wasn’t what Loki had said. But he was. 

This was home, Loki thought. With Steve. And Váli.


	35. edges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark thoughts come circling when Loki's alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning this chapter for self harm. 
> 
> An anon asked for something exploring further the mention in "Truthtelling" where Loki admits to hurting himself every so often, and of course I wrote something, because I am who I am. This takes place during "[Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1659956/chapters/3521681)", before the ending scene in that fic.

Steve was out.

Visiting Barnes, although he didn’t actually say so, as though Loki wouldn’t know if he did not. And Loki agreeably pretended not to know, as though he didn’t need to know, as though he simply accepted the vague excuses when he left. The taste of the not-quite-lie was sour, but Loki accepted it, not particularly wanting to start an argument. 

 _That’s a novelty,_ sneered the snide voice in his mind that had only gotten louder and nastier. _You, holding back from an argument. Your great gallantry in action, no doubt._

Loki bit the inside of his cheek, hard, and focused on what he was doing, which was making stir fry. He was not particularly hungry, but it was something to do other than sit languishing and feeling sorry for himself, bored by every book he tried to pick up. 

_Pathetic. Moping about like a lost puppy._

Steve needed him, Loki reminded himself forcefully. He wasn’t being rejected, wasn’t being replaced. ( _Not yet._ ) Steve needed - _wanted_ \- his help. His support. 

_What support do you have to give? What can you offer that he can’t find elsewhere?_

Loki clawed for the memory of Steve saying _I love you,_ with force, like it was truth. He fought for belief, the belief that he did have sometimes, that it was true. 

 _Love doesn’t mean he won’t leave. He’d be right to. You know that. You’ve always known that._ His stomach twisted into knots, and Loki turned off the stove and took several slow, deep breaths, clearing his thoughts, finding focus, pushing out the voice a little at a time. 

“You’re better than this,” he said to himself, low and under his breath. He picked up an onion and began cutting it, welcoming the sting in his eyes and breathing slow and deeply, holding himself centered. 

It lasted maybe five minutes. 

_Look at you. Tame little creature, you’ll be curling up at the foot of the bed and licking his hand soon._

Loki bit down on his lip until he felt it split. It wasn’t like that. It had never been like that. That wasn’t what Steve wanted of him and it wasn’t who Loki _was._ Steve had helped him, supported him. All he was meant to do was return the favor. 

_And when he leaves you, dried up, used up, where will you go then? Stay here like a wraith seeking scraps-_

He slammed his palm flat onto the counter, hard enough to sting. “ _No.”_ Thanos’s voice slithered into his thoughts. _A troublesome pet, you are._  That was what he was. Had always been. 

Loki balled his hand into a fist and stared at the cutting board. At his hand on the counter. 

 _Do it,_ murmured the voice. Loki’s breathing came hard and fast. 

It felt like moving someone else’s limb, someone else turning the knife, someone else bringing it down. 

He slammed the blade down through his hand, the tip digging deep into the wood of the cutting board. He’d moved, so he didn’t chip the counter doing it.

The pain hit hard. Loki didn’t cry out; he made no sound at all, just shuddered, staring mesmerized at the narrow blade stuck between the bones, jutting out of the back of his hand, the red blood blooming around it. The point where metal met skin and broke it. He twitched his fingers and sucked in a breath at the fresh pain singing up through tendons and nerves. The juice of the onion on the wood stung.

The voice was quiet. 

For just a moment, Loki imagined Steve coming in now, seeing him like this. It would hurt him, Loki knew. Wound him, worse than this wounded Loki. Part of him wanted it, wanted to shove it in Steve’s face, _see this fractured_ thing _you claim to love._ The rest recoiled from that thought. _Monstrous._

Loki twitched his fingers again, letting the pain bring silence. He imagined dragging the knife up, cutting a line through his hand up between his middle and ring fingers. He was breathing too hard and too fast, thoughts already starting to twist like snakes. 

He pulled the knife out of his hand with a jerk and dropped it, walking stiffly to the bathroom, ignoring the pull he felt to go back, pick it back up, do worse. Carve into himself until he was as twisted and ugly on the outside as he felt within. 

He went to the bathroom, avoiding his eyes in the mirror, running cold water over the backs of his hands until the wound healed. Deliberately keeping his thoughts blank, he went back to the kitchen, threw away the onion he’d started cutting, and used magic to pull the blood out of the grain of the board. Loki ran his thumb over the substantial nick in the surface, and hoped Steve didn’t ask.

He would have to think of a suitable excuse.


	36. bridges burned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki knows the truth of why he's here. It's something he has to keep in mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An old fic I'm finally crossposting for a prompt from an anon about Loki during "This Is My Kingdom Come." I have a few things I want to try to move over here from Tumblr over the next week or so, so don't be surprised if you get a few notifications coming up in short order - and don't get too excited, it's nothing actually _new._
> 
> The new stuff is...in progress. I swear.

Loki kept his head high and his back straight and did not look back, even if a part of him wanted to; wanted to imprint Steve’s face on his memory, in case he did not see it again. 

But he did not. 

The guards said nothing, though he could see out of the corner of his eye a flicker of disgust as one glanced at him, and wondered what they had heard. What horrors were laid at his feet, by whisper or insinuation. How many were false, and how many true. He wanted to laugh, thinking of the first time he had done this, kept upright by fury and spite. He could remember so clearly how it had felt, all that  _rage_ burning in his gut. 

Now all he had was determination and the certainty that he was doing what needed to be done.

When he realized that the route they were taking was not the most direct to the cells, that he was being led, rather, toward the city, Loki felt his mouth twist beneath the muzzle and would have laughed if he could.  _Ah, so it is to be like that, is it?_ Njord wanted to give a  _show._

 _I can oblige._ He was glad he had chosen to don his armor for this. He rolled his shoulders back and let a different mask settle on his face, of arrogance and carelessness, cruel and cold. Whatever Asgard was expecting to see, let them see this. Their monster, returned for judgment. 

 _It might do you good to show a little humility,_ Sif had said (and why should she care, why should she care about anything but saving Thor’s neck). Perhaps it would, if it were mercy he sought. 

It was not. Mercy, in this case, would be counterproductive.

* * *

They reached the cells without incident - which was to say, no one threw anything. Plenty stared, and Loki could feel their gazes but did not turn to see what expressions accompanied them. He kept his eyes forward, as though he could not care less, as though this were a royal procession and all of this was beneath him. 

To his relief, the guards, still silent, removed the muzzle once they were inside. The one holding it looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end only curled his lip and left without a word. Loki summoned a smile and called, “what, are there to be no refreshments after my long journey?” 

They ignored him. Loki wondered if these men belonged to Odin or to Njord. How deep did Njord’s work go? 

Would this be enough to repair the damage? 

_(”This?” Have some courage, Laufeyson. Your death. That is why you are here.)_

With the departure of the guards it was quiet but for the humming of the cell wall. He knew how it would feel if he reached out and touched it. Knew how long it would take him to pace the perimeter. Loki’s chest felt tight and he closed his eyes to focus on taking a deep breath, pushing the claustrophobia back. 

Being here again - he could feel it clawing at him. As though he’d never left. The fear and encroaching panic, the feeling of being exposed, the prickle of his magic supressed like being held down underwater. But this was not permanent. Would hopefully not even last for long.

He would need…he would need to ensure they did not decide to imprison him again, this time more carefully. He did not think he would be able to endure that.

How long  _did_ he have? How long would they make him wait?

Loki paced to the cot and sat down, still focusing on his breaths, and thought of Steve. He should not be here. Loki did not want him here. Bad enough that Thor had to be, but Odin would likely keep his son in line, prevent him from any stupidity he might execute in the hopes of defending Loki - since Odin, it seemed, had deemed his stolen whelp an acceptable sacrifice. ( _Be glad that he did,_  Loki thought, quashing his own bitterness.) But Steve…Steve might not be so safe, and Steve would  _try,_ and might be hurt. 

Steve would watch him die, if it came to that, as it must. 

Loki did not want him to suffer that.

And yet selfishly, at the same time, he wanted Steve to be here. So he was not facing the end…alone. So there was at least one person in this realm, unfettered by politics, who wanted him to live. That meant something, even if it changed nothing. Romanova, he hoped, would ensure Steve did not do anything foolish. He trusted that she would keep him safe: likely that was why she was here.

Loki made himself open his eyes to watch the gently humming wall. Most likely now they were being welcomed by Odin (and perhaps Frigga - his heart ached briefly, wondering what she thought, if she felt as Odin did that it was a necessary trade to be made, or if she wished it could be otherwise.). There would be a feast - 

Loki closed his thoughts, pushing them down, hating the brief pulse of longing in his chest - that he could  _be_ there, see Steve’s face marvel at Asgard’s wonders, sit with him at table and watch faces fall as he made clear that this marvelous creature was his and his alone. The image was vivid, almost real, and Loki crushed it. 

Asgard was not his home and would never be. He was here for one reason and one reason only; the only way out of this cell was a noose, or, if they were kind, an axe. Loki tried, hard, to steel his resolve. 

He hoped Steve enjoyed the feast.


	37. there is a devil in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After everything with Amora, Loki (eventually) gets around to talking to Wanda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Tumblr Original™, this one prompted by [Rosie](http://ramblingredrose.tumblr.com), who can always ask me for Wanda things and get them. Because Wanda.

Loki stared at the door in front of him, not sure what he was waiting for. Wanda was - an ally. No, a friend. She had been the one to find him, to help break him free of Amora’s clutches; the one to stop the never-ending nightmare and finish Amora for good.

It wasn’t really Wanda. He knew that. The fear went deeper than that, uglier than that - the too-keen awareness of his own vulnerability, the lurking whisper that said  _it’s not safe, show an instant of weakness and they’ll go for your throat._

The decision was made for him when the door opened and Wanda startled, staring at him. “Oh,” she said. “Loki! Hello. Um-”

“Is it a bad time?” He asked. She glanced over her shoulder and shook her head.

“No, it’s all right - come in. It can wait.”

Loki stayed where he was. “I shouldn’t wish to interrupt your business.”

“You aren’t,” Wanda said firmly. “I’ve actually been meaning to…well, come in. Would you like some tea?”

Loki stepped reluctantly inside. Wanda’s brother was sitting on the back of one of the chairs and scowling at him. Loki stared back at him as he said, “please. Nothing…just something herbal, please. Your choice.”

Wanda paused, looking back and forth between them, and rolled her eyes. “Both of you,” she muttered, and louder, “Pietro, you can go.”

Pietro’s scowl deepened, but he jumped off the chair and sped out, managing to bump Loki’s shoulder as he went.

“What  _is_ it between the two of you,” Wanda said, sounding aggrieved. Loki shrugged.

“I couldn’t say what your brother is thinking.”

Wanda looked like she was going to roll her eyes again, but just went to put the kettle on before turning back toward him, her expression shifting. “How are you?” She asked, and Loki wanted to flinch at the gentleness of it.

This, he realized, was what he’d been afraid off. Not necessarily her cruelty, but her kindness, when kindness felt like sandpaper scraping across raw skin.

“Well enough, thank you,” he said, carefully even. And added, “with no small thanks to you, I understand.”

Wanda looked self-conscious. “I’m just glad I could help. I wish I’d been able to figure it out sooner-”

“It is astonishing you managed to figure it out at all,” Loki said. “The trick with the rings…very clever.”

“It was Steve who put it together,” Wanda said. “I just…”

Loki raised his eyebrows, almost amused. “Are you going to tell me you aren’t responsible for Amora’s defeat, either?”

Wanda looked down. “I was angry,” she said, almost apologetic. “She hurt…so many people. All those people in Latveria, and Pietro, and Steve…and then you.” She looked up, and this time Loki did flinch. “I’m sorry. For what you went through. And…what I did.”

He swallowed hard, pushing down the feeling like he was going to crack. “What do you mean, what you did? If you mean for killing Amora, I can assure you that I do not grieve for her.”

“No,” Wanda said. “I mean…I got in your head and made you…silenced everything.”

“Ah,” Loki said after a beat. “That.”

It was a trick he’d taught her in the first place, praying it would never be necessary. It was a brutal thing, severing the victim from all conscious thought. Not permanently - though he knew it was cowardice not to give her that version of the working. Just, he’d hoped as he taught her, long enough.

He’d meant it as a tool of last resort, to stop him if Thanos tried to use him. Wanda had used it to save his mind from breaking.

Wanda huddled into herself. “It was the only thing I could think to do,” she said. “You were - you were seizing, it looked like you were going to die, and I thought maybe if, if…”

“You did the right thing,” Loki interrupted. She stared at him, eyes wide. “I would have…I might have. Died. Or…broken, gone mad. More so.” He stuttered a humorless laugh, forced out. “She was…Amora was using my own mind against me. You stopped it. You have nothing to apologize for.”

Wanda bit her lip. She looked like she was about to cry, and Loki looked away. “You are too harsh to yourself,” he said awkwardly. “You take blame where you should not, and assume fault where there is none.” He took a deep breath. “If anything…I owe you a debt.”

“No,” Wanda said immediately. “You don’t. Don’t be silly.”

“I am not,” Loki said. “But-”

“No,” Wanda said, her voice firmer. “That’s not how friends work. If you owe me a debt, then I’m forgiving it. You’d have done the same for me. And don’t say you wouldn’t,” she added quickly.

Loki rocked back on his heels. There was a strange knot of feeling in his chest that he couldn’t pull apart; he felt at once unbearably fragile and as though he’d taken a step and found solid ground where he’d expected air. He stood there, entirely at a loss for words.

Wanda took a half step toward him, her stubborn expression softening again. “Can I hug you?”

It wasn’t the question he’d expected. Though Loki couldn’t say what question he had. “I…yes?” He said, because it seemed like the right answer. Because she’d asked.

She hugged him, quick and fleeting, and then stepped back, her eyes still wide. The kettle started whistling and she turned smartly to retrieve it; Loki moved further into her suite and stood still.

She brought over two steaming mugs and held one out to him. He caught her arm before she pulled away.

“I hope you do not feel guilt over Amora’s death,” he said fiercely. “She earned it. More than earned it.”

Wanda hesitated, then shook her head. “Maybe,” she said softly. “But I…I don’t know if I like knowing that I can do that to someone. It wasn’t…an easy death.”

 _No better than she deserved,_ Loki thought viciously, but he kept his eyes locked on her and said simply, “she would have done worse to you.”

Wanda looked away, and Loki let her go. His stomach was burning; thinking too much about Amora seemed to draw her close again. Her poisonous whisper:  _I wish I’d kept your Captain. Would that he could be here to see this._ He pulled in a breath that shook slightly.

“We can talk about something else, if you want,” Wanda said quietly.

“Yes,” Loki said, striving to keep his voice even. “Please.”

She walked over to the chair Pietro had been occupying and sat down, her legs curled up underneath her. “I’ve been talking with Jane, some. She has some interesting thoughts about how magic works. It made me think of you.”

Loki made himself scoff. “She thinks everything can be explained by mortal sciences.”

Wanda cocked her head. “And you don’t?”

He was being baited, Loki knew. She was pulling him into a subject he couldn’t resist - less charitably, manipulating him.

Here, now, he was grateful for it.


	38. settling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott Lang sits down for a conversation with Loki. It's about as awkward as you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for a prompt by cellard00rs on Tumblr, who asked for something with Scott and Loki interacting. I've never written Scott Lang before, but it was definitely fun to try.

In general, Loki refrained from wandering.

He and Wakanda’s king had reached an…uneasy settlement, of sorts, but Loki did not entirely know what to make of the man and thus could not entirely trust him. His people, he was even less sure of. He didn’t confine himself -  _refused_ to confine himself - but he didn’t make a habit of lounging in public areas, either.

He’d made an exception today, sitting with his feet in a pool in one of the gardens, watching the fish approach and then dart away, seeking some kind of clarity.

It didn’t seem he was going to find it.

“How long are you going to stand there?” He asked coolly, without turning. Whoever was standing behind him jumped, which probably ruled out Barton.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” said…Scott Lang, Loki remembered. They’d barely spoken.

“I don’t particularly like it when people try to sneak up on me,” Loki said mildly. He turned his head, just a fraction, so he could see Lang out of the corner of his eye. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Um…nothing specific.” The man certainly sounded…twitchy.

“Unlikely,” Loki said. “I make you nervous. I doubt you would seek me out for no reason.”

“I didn’t say  _no reason,_ ” Lang said. “I said  _nothing specific._ ” He shifted. “Not that you’re wrong. About the nervous part.”

Loki cocked his head. “But?”

Lang edged forward, after a moment, and sat down. He started taking off his shoes. “Just curious, I guess. How you, uh, ended up here.” He paused, and added, “not quite sure how  _I_ did, sometimes. Ex-con running around with a bunch of superheroes.”

That caught Loki’s attention. “Ex-con?”

“Um - ex-convict?” Lang looked self-conscious. “You didn’t know that? I guess, why would you.” Loki raised his eyebrows a notch, and he shrugged one shoulder. “I used to steal things. Used to! I don’t anymore.”

He seemed genuinely concerned that Loki might…judge him? He felt the urge to laugh. “I think you will find,” he said dryly, “that a bit of thievery is hardly the worst anyone here has done.”

There were three beats of awkward silence. “Guess that’s true,” Lang said. He stuck his feet in the water. “So, uh. You and Captain - Steve Rogers, huh?”

Loki felt himself tense. “If you have something to say,” he said, and heard his voice shift, turning silky and cold, “say it to me, and keep your mouth  _shut_ around him.”

Lang’s eyes widened. “I wasn’t trying to - oh, Jesus, I wasn’t saying - no judgment. None. Promise. Don’t kill me.”

Loki flashed his teeth. “I will not. Steve would be upset.” Lang looked like he was considering bolting, and Loki looked away, flicking his eyes skyward.

“I’m serious,” Lang said. “No judgment. I was just, well, surprised. Not that I thought - or that it’s any of my business-”

 _Surprised,_ Loki thought bitterly.  _That someone like him would take up with something like me?_ “You are right,” he said, starting to stand. “It is none of your business.”

“Hey,” Lang said, “seems like you’re doing better than I did with my marriage for a while.” Loki paused, surprised. “Yeah,” he said. “Turns out getting arrested and going to jail is hell on a relationship. It got better,” he said, almost defensively.

“Where is your family now?” He asked. Lang said nothing, and after a moment Loki said, “ah.”

He laughed, a little weakly. “Great timing, right?” Clearing his throat, he added, “but I’m not here to complain to you about my family problems.”

Loki considered if that was pointed, and decided it probably was not.

“It’s a little surreal,” Lang went on, when Loki didn’t say anything. “Cap - uh, I mean Steve, he was my childhood hero. Like everyone else, but…I grew up on the old comics -  _Captain America and the Howling Commandos,_ you know. Reading about him and Bucky Barnes.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Old comics?”

“You didn’t - oh, right. Aliens.” Lang shook his head. “They sure were something. I mean, um, not…historically accurate. I’m pretty sure. Unless there was really a Nazi vampire?” He looked at Loki curiously.

“I’ve never asked,” Loki said dryly. Lang seemed disappointed, but Loki resolved to see about finding some of these  _comics._ “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Not exactly.” Land grimaced. “I’m not sure, honestly. Just trying to figure things out. I don’t really know any of you. Clint and I have been hanging out, some, but…we’re a team, right? I figure I should know the people I’m on a team with.”

What Loki thought was  _you have been spending time with Barton and are still speaking to me,_ but he supposed that might be…uncharitable. He and Barton seemed to have reached a kind of…uneasy truce. They were not friends, and perhaps never would be. But in the Raft, when Loki had been teetering on the edge of sanity, he had offered something like concern.

Then something else Lang had said struck him.  _We’re a team._ It was still not easy, to think of himself as part of that  _we._ He might have claimed these people as  _his,_ but thinking of himself as one of them was…different.

“Loki?” Lang said, sounding nervous, and he realized he’d been quiet for a while.

“I am not an Avenger,” he said. “Not exactly. You should remember that.”

Lang frowned. “What do you mean?”

“What I said,” Loki said. “My status is…somewhat nebulous.” He paused. “Though I suppose none of those here are Avengers anymore, exactly.”

He could feel Lang studying him. “What you did when we were fighting Iron Man and those guys - that was magic. Right?”

“Mm.”

“It was…pretty incredible. I’ve never seen anything like that before, the big snake thing-”

“Sorcery is rare on your planet,” Loki said. “Wanda is…unusual.” Still, he couldn’t help but be flattered, which was probably the point.

Lang cleared his throat. “Speaking of, uh, planets…where  _is_ Thor?”

Loki thought of the long silence, his own uncertainty, his own fears, and felt his expression close. “Asgard, presumably.”

“You don’t know?” Lang sounded shocked. Loki turned his head to look at him coldly.

“No,” he said. “I am exiled from Asgard, so I have no means of finding out.”

Lang blinked. “Oh,” he said faintly. “Uh…sorry.” Loki looked back away and did not respond. “Well…nice to talk to you,” he said eventually, plainly awkward, uncomfortable. “See you later?”

This man, Loki thought. He came to you.  _No judgment._ A thief, a liar. In older days, the kind of person Loki might have claimed for his own.

“You asked how I got here,” Loki said. “I suppose the simplest answer is that Steve saved my life once, and I did not understand why. I wanted to. Needed to. And then I could not walk away.” He closed his mouth.

That was enough. All he wanted to say.

“I can understand that,” Lang said, to his surprise. “Finding someone who…believes in you. It’s good.”

Loki didn’t reply, and after several long moments he heard Lang leave.

That was it, wasn’t it? he thought, looking down into the water. The first of all the small steps that had led him here. Steve, believing that Loki’s life was worth saving.

Maybe it was; maybe it wasn’t. But that Steve believed it, had believed it even then…that was worth something.


	39. the fruit of our vines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Amora's good work, Loki is looking for some coping mechanisms. As usual, they're not particularly healthy ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was written for a prompt by the inimitable [mostfacinorous](http://mostfacinorous.tumblr.com) on Tumblr, and contains some oblique/implied references to alcoholism - so be aware of that. 
> 
> Takes place post [one hand on my throat, and one on your heart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11829885).

Steve jolted out of another nightmare: a laughing Amora closed a collar around his neck, winding the attached leash around her hand. “Now,” she said. “Let’s see if you can’t be retrained.”

He rolled over, reaching for Loki, and found the other side of the bed empty. For a moment he just lay there, heart racing.  _He’s probably just in the bathroom. Don’t panic._

But an irrational part of him kept thinking  _what if someone’s taken him,_ or even more drastically,  _what if you just dreamed you got him back,_ and he couldn’t stay still long before getting up. 

There was a light on in the main room. Steve looked at it and sighed, though some part of him was relieved even before he walked out and saw Loki sitting at the kitchen counter, turning a glass of red wine back and forth between his fingers and frowning at it. 

“What did the wine do to you?” Steve asked, trying to sound like he was teasing. Loki jerked up and turned like he hadn’t heard Steve approaching. For a moment - just a moment - Steve thought he saw green flicker around Loki’s fingers before he relaxed. 

They were both…tense. It’d get easier. 

So he kept telling himself. 

“Nothing,” Loki said, setting down the glass. He examined Steve, frowning, but though Steve tensed for an inquiry about his dreams Loki didn’t ask. 

“How long have you been up?” Steve asked, more seriously. Loki shrugged. 

“Not all that long. I was just…” He trailed off, looked away, shrugged. 

“Just not sleeping,” Steve said. He eyed the glass. “That’s not ordinary wine, is it?” 

“No,” Loki said after a moment. “It isn’t. It’s the last of the stuff Thor gifted me. This one from Vanaheim. I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. But I’m reconsidering that stance at the moment.” 

Steve walked over and sat down. “So you came out here to get drunk alone,” he said mildly. Loki picked up the glass again. 

“More or less. Though it appears to be  _less,_ as of this moment.” 

“I’d say that’s probably a good thing.” 

“Mm,” Loki said, apparently unconvinced. “Sometimes it helps. When you…when I can’t stop thinking, when I want to beat my head against a wall to drown out the noise…” He eyed the wine. “It’s been a while.” 

Steve had gotten caught on  _beat my head against a wall,_ wondering worriedly how literal that was. “Been a while since what?” 

“Since I was tempted to…overindulge.” Loki tapped his fingers against the glass. “I learned fairly quickly that if I was desperate there was an easy way to settle myself. It took me longer to realize that the cost - of losing control - wasn’t worth it. I haven’t struggled with moderating myself since I did figure it out. But at the moment…”

He shrugged, and dropped his hand away. 

“You’re right,” Steve said after a moment. “It’s not worth it.”

“You mean alcohol  _isn’t_  an appropriate coping mechanism?” Loki asked, his voice dry. “It does work. And I thought it was traditional.”

Steve winced. “Maybe it does work,” he said. “And then you sober up and you’re still as head-wrecked as you were when you got drunk to begin with.”

“A good reason not to sober up,” Loki said. Steve gave him a hard look.

“People ruin themselves that way.” 

“I know.” Loki sighed. “I don’t actually want to be  _drunk._ I just want to…”

“Stop thinking,” Steve said. He remembered in the bar after Bucky fell. The moment he realized it wasn’t doing any good, and then realizing that even if he  _did_ manage to make himself forget, Bucky would still be gone. “I know.” He half smiled. “Can’t say…can’t say I haven’t been tempted recently. If I’d known you had that lying around…”

Loki huffed quietly. “You’d think we’d be better at this by now,” he said. 

“I think we’re doing fine,” Steve said staunchly, though he wasn’t sure he really thought any such thing. The way Loki glanced at him suggested that he knew it. 

He flicked his wrist and half-filled the glass he was now holding, pushing it across to Steve. “Here.” 

Steve looked at it, and then him. “I thought we were just agreeing that getting drunk wasn’t a good idea.” 

“You won’t get drunk off that,” Loki said. “And now I’m not drinking alone.” His smile was crooked, pained.  

“Loki,” Steve said. Quiet, but it seemed to be enough. Loki’s shoulders slumped and he looked away. 

“I know.”

“Come back to bed,” Steve said, and tried, “please? I’d…” He forced a smile. “I could use the company.”

“All right,” Loki said after a moment. “I will. Go on. I just need a moment to put this away.” 

Steve leaned over to kiss his cheek and went back to the bedroom, lying down and pulling the covers up over himself. Loki came in and joined him a couple moments later, his arm across Steve’s waist, lips pressing softly against his shoulder. When Loki leaned up to kiss him, Steve could just smell fruit and alcohol on his breath.


	40. this old world seemed new to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes it his mission to introduce Loki to one of the finer things in life: hot chocolate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A super extra fluffy fic that was going to be a Valentine's Day thing, sort of, and then wasn't. [gaslightgallows](http://gaslightgallows.tumblr.com) on Tumblr was talking a headcanon about Aesir being unfamiliar with foods from North and South America - which would, of course, include chocolate and associated hot beverages. This being the season for said hot beverages...well, I went with it. 
> 
> This is set in the early days of Loki's stay in the Tower, sometime post [Settled (With Questions)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10921755) but probably pre-[reflected in someone like me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/861325).
> 
> The festival at City Bakery is a real thing, and if you're ever in New York in February I highly recommend it.

“The one good thing about winter,” Steve said, miserably eyeing the temperature forecast on his StarkPhone, “is the hot drinks.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Can you not have them all the year?”

“Sure,” Steve said. “But it’s different when it’s actually cold out. Better. Hot apple cider, or hot cocoa…they’re winter drinks.”

“I suppose,” Loki said. “Cider is enjoyable enough.” Something about the look on his face made Steve think…

“Have you…never had hot cocoa?” Steve asked, trying to think back. He’d been to a few cafes with Loki, back before he’d wound up here, but he couldn’t remember what he’d ordered. And Loki had been wandering around on his own. And… “Is that not something Asgard has?”

Loki was trying too hard to look as though he didn’t care when he shrugged. “I don’t know what it is.”

“It’s…well, chocolate melted down and made into a drink,” Steve said. “People make it with milk, mostly, but there’s some hot cocoa that’s practically drinkable chocolate bars.” Loki still looked blank, and Steve shook his head. “I can’t believe you haven’t tried it.”

“Well, I haven’t,” Loki said, something stiff in his voice. Steve recognized self-consciousness when he heard it.

“It’s fine!” Steve said quickly. “It just means - well. Now I get to introduce it to you. You’ll love it.”

Loki’s lips twisted up at one corner. “If you’ve forgotten,” he said dryly, “I am not permitted to leave the confines of these rooms.”

“Then I’ll just have to bring the hot cocoa to you,” Steve said firmly.

* * *

He was relieved, honestly, to have something he could  _do_ for Loki. He knew his new confinement chafed, knew that Loki was bored and frustrated and occasionally outright resentful. But he was  _staying,_ and he was staying  _for Steve._

It was the least he could do.

Steve opened his laptop and searched  _best hot cocoa new york_ , writing down five or six names, and then sent an email to Pepper asking her to look over the list and add any he’d forgotten. She sent him a link to the website of some place called City Bakery. Steve pulled up a map, squared his shoulders, and started marking locations.

Natasha knocked on his door while he was looking over the results of his planning, took one look at the map he’d printed out, and raised her eyebrows.

“Did I miss a mission briefing?”

Steve hastily folded the sheet of paper. “No,” he said. “This is personal.”

“Personal,” Natasha said. She came over and looked over his shoulder at his laptop. He shut it quickly, but not quickly enough. “Huh,” she said. “I didn’t know you were such a hot chocolate connoisseur.”

“I’m not,” Steve said quickly. He could feel his face getting hot, and moved a notebook to a corner of his desk so that he could avoid her eyes.

“This is a Loki thing, isn’t it?” She said, sounding almost resigned. Steve tried not to slump his shoulders, straightening instead and standing to turn toward her.

“And if it is?”

“Don’t get defensive on me,” she said, holding up her hands. “You know what I think already - I’m not going to beat you over the head with it. But…hot chocolate?”

“He’s never had any,” Steve said. “I think he’d like it. He has a sweet tooth.”

Natasha’s lips twitched, barely. “Does he?” Steve was, inexplicably, embarrassed. Natasha laughed, but not unkindly. “All right. If no one’s mentioned it, you should add MarieBelle.”

Steve glanced down his list and noted it down. “Great,” he said. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Natasha said, and paused, her faint smile fading. “You know I think this isn’t necessarily…the best idea you’ve ever had.”

Steve smiled crookedly. “You think I’m being stupid.”

“No,” Natasha said. Then added, “not exactly.” Steve just looked at her, and she shrugged one shoulder. “Let me know which one’s his favorite,” she said. “I’d be curious.”

“Is there some deep intel you can get out of hot cocoa preferences?” Steve asked dryly.

“Just if someone has good taste,” Natasha said, giving him a crooked smile of her own.

* * *

“I need something to keep hot drinks hot,” Steve said. Tony gave him a sidelong look and didn’t stop fiddling with - whatever he was fiddling with.

“Like a thermos?”

“No,” Steve said. “For more than one. Like a cooler, but for insulating heat.”

Tony swiveled around to face him. “Does this have to do with your hot chocolate mission?”

Steve opened his mouth to deny it, then closed it. He just looked at Tony, who looked like he was trying not to grin. “Okay, awesome. Just curious. I think it’s adorable, just so you know-”

“Tony,” Steve said.

“Yeah, I’ve got something,” he said. “I’ll get you set up.” He tapped the side of his nose. “I’ve got your back, Cap.”

“I bet you do,” Steve said dryly. Tony sat back.

“So,” he said. “What’s going on with the two of you, these days?”

“Nothing,” Steve said. “Nothing is  _going on._ We’re just - I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“Sounding a little defensive there,” Tony said. Steve gave him a flat stare, and Tony held up his hands. “Just saying. You’ve gotta watch this stuff. Villains are sexy but that doesn’t mean you should start dating one.”

“I’m not - he’s not-” Steve took a deep breath and let it out. “What is it you have for me?”

* * *

Steve knocked on Loki’s door with his knee. “It’s me,” he called. “You’re going to have to open the door for me. My hands are full.”

“Steve?” Loki sounded faintly surprised. He opened the door, though, and startled. Steve smiled at him over the insulated carrier in his arms. “What…?”

“Remember what I told you about hot cocoa?” Steve said. “And how I said I’d get you some? Well…”

He walked in and set the carrier down, beginning to unload it. He set out all the cups in a neat line on the table, turning them so the name of the cafe faced outward. “I figured,” he said as he did so, “that you should have the chance to try a few different kinds. There’s a lot of variety. These are all supposed to be…the best places, so I thought you could try them, figure out which you like, and when this trial period is over and we can go outside…we’d know where to go.”

Loki said nothing, and Steve turned to look at him. He was looking between Steve and the line of cups, his eyes wide. Steve’s stomach tightened. He tried to pull up a smile.

“Does that sound…good?”

“You…these are all from  _different_ places,” Loki said.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Top ten. Pepper recommended a couple.”

“And you went out and…bought them.”

Steve eyed Loki nervously. “I told you I was going to introduce you to hot cocoa. I figured I should make sure it was the good stuff.”

Loki exhaled slightly, and then dropped his eyes. Steve felt a brief touch of panic - had he done something  _wrong,_ somehow? - but then he realized that there was just the faintest touch of a smile on Loki’s lips that he was apparently trying to hide.

“You are so very…” Loki shook his head with a little laugh. “Remarkable.”

Steve felt his face warm. “When I say I’m going to do something I’m going to do it right,” he said, half joking.

“You do, don’t you?” Loki said, and he sounded serious. He walked over to the table. “Is there somewhere I should start?”

“Try this one,” Steve said. “Jacques-Torres. Apparently it’s one of the more…classic ones.”

Loki lifted the cup and inhaled the smell before taking a sip. Steve almost held his breath.

Loki’s eyes lit up and he looked at Steve with delighted surprise. “It’s good!” He said, and it was that true smile on his face, the one that brightened all his features and made his eyes crinkle at the corners. Steve’s heart did a funny flip in his chest.

“I told you you’d like it,” Steve said. “Here - try another one. And if you want - there’s a place that has some kind of festival in February where they serve a different kind of special hot chocolate every day.”

“Choose one for me,” Loki said, looking up and down the line. Steve knew he was smiling like a dolt; he could feel it on his face.

Still, he couldn’t make himself wipe it away.


End file.
